


Jaded Cat and Livid Mouse

by syphrilfox



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: It's quite literally a game of cat and mouse though, Other, Strong Language, You'll see what I mean, i have no idea what to tag this, mild violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:02:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 95,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8025394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syphrilfox/pseuds/syphrilfox
Summary: Two years have passed, and progress has been made. Houses and stables had been erected within the surrounding area of the Goddess Statue. The citizens of Skyloft have made themselves cozy in their new and peaceful world, but peace doesn't last for long. Danger lurks in every nook and cranny as they find out, and it comes with a vicious need for vengeance. First of hopefully many works. I am trying my best. Please leave any creative criticism you have as I am rusty with my writing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I'm posting on AO3, so naturally it might not be all that great. BUt I believe in me, and even if it isn't the best it's my first. Firsts are never perfect. I'd greatly appreciate it if you could review it and give me any pointers you have.
> 
> All minor jumps in time are broken by a string of these: {~}{~}{~}

All he could remember was pain. An intense, biting sort of agony that tore through the body without mercy. The type of pain someone could only feel from the sharpened edge of a blade that had been brought down upon them with the intent to harm. And hurt it did. It was a trembling, angry pain. It left him limp and unmoving where he lay. Well, perhaps he wasn't lying down. Perhaps he wasn't even unconscious at all?

But the idea that he was conscious did not explain why he could not see anything. He wasn't blind. He was very sure that nothing had happened to his eyesight. It couldn't be him. He could swear he had his eyes open. It must have been some kind of void where he was. It wasn't bright, nor was it dark. There is no colour, or no sound, but it is not dull, nor is it silent. Just an empty abyss of nothing. Surely he has to be dreaming, surely he has to be asleep. But he has no need for such a thing. Sleeping is a pointless activity that wastes precious, valuable time. Time he could be using for much more important things. And he couldn't be asleep, especially with all this pain he was forced to experience. It hadn't let up in the slightest since he had found himself of efficient and coherent mind. It had panicked him, causing the instinctive mental response of 'pathetic weakling' in his head. Then again, who would not be a little bit panicked if they woke up in an unfamiliar place in total agony. He was no weakling.

Oh what troublesome agony he was feeling. Why must it bother him? He is already lost and confused. Is that not enough to sate whatever being is doing this to him? He tried to think back, tried to remember what god awful deeds he had done to award himself such a fate. His records came up blank. But... There was something he remembered. Something with the few sparks of colour, sound, and smell. However, none of these memories brought him answers. They only brought him more questions.

He could remember smelling a thick stench, one that did not necessarily reek, but one that reminded him heavily of life and iron. Singed fabrics, death, and soggy, sweaty flesh were all remembered as well. All of his sight memories came out blurred and darkened. It was as if it had been storming in that particular time. Yes, yes, it had been thundering and eventually raining there, flashes of brilliant white against what he could only guess was the sky. But besides the flashes of white electricity in the sky, there had been clashes of bright blue and a hazy deep red. Sparks could also be recalled in this memory, flying out in every which way and being extinguished as they hit the rain. But everything was still very much a blur for him. Not figuratively, but quite literally, as if he had been propelled through the air at an alarming rate. There had been loud, echoing clashes as well. Sounds that grated the nerves and raised the hairs on the body. The wet sloshing of feet dancing in low water levels, and the soothing drone of rain making contact with water, flesh, and steel. Other sounds could be remembered, sounds of effort and pain, and the sounds of thunder rumbling and crackling in the distance.

But he tried to discard such sounds. There was no need to cling to the sounds of a battle. What he clung to was the droning white noise of rain hitting water. It didn't help the fiery pain that was still rocketing through his entire being, but it helped calm him. The void of external registration and the constant agony had begun to fuel his slight panic. Dare he say it, it had even begun to scare him. But the memory of rain was enough to soothe his fears. Perhaps it only hurt in this place because he was scared of what he couldn't sense. Perhaps it only hurt because he was alone. Whatever the causes, he remained in this nothingness with only the distant memories of his life and the sound of rain to soothe him.

He sat quiet for a long time. At least, he could only imagine that it was a long time filled with silence. He had no idea how to tell time in such a place, nor did he have any idea if time was passing at all. Everything in this void was motionless. Not a sound, not a sight, not a smell. He screamed. He tried to anyways. His entire being remained motionless. He could feel himself trying to scream, trying to shout, to yell, to call out to anyone or anything that could hear him. But it remained as nothing. Nothing came from him, nor did anything go to him. His fear flared up again, this time his pain reacting with it. He became more terrified of his predicament, and with that he began to hurt worse.

This was quick to turn into a vicious cycle, so much so that he could have sworn he had blacked out and returned to this awful state of not being sure if he was conscious or not. He had to be conscious though. He just had to be. He could feel his pain still. It had diminished. From the great, searing agony it had been what had felt to be only moments earlier, turned into quiet, dull aches and throbs. It didn't make sense. It didn't make sense at all. He hadn't calmed down from his earlier panic, nor could he have passed out. But his pain had been reduced somewhat. Why? His dormant fears gave way to confusion. Why didn't it hurt anymore? Why didn't his skin crawl or his flesh itch with the unbearable sensations? Was he recovering from something? Was he healing? Had he even been injured in the first place? Well, of course he had to have been injured. Pain doesn't usually come without a cause. But he couldn't remember a bloody thing about himself.

His confusion backed down for a new emotion to take over: frustration. What was wrong with him? He didn't have any wounds he knew of, nor did he feel as if he was ill. Why couldn't he remember what had happened to him? Was this punishment for something he had done? Was it amnesia? Or has he not even begun to live a life yet? But, he had to have been alive before. Those shattered memories stated quite bluntly that he indeed live before. Does this mean he is dead? Or is he suspended in the state between life and death? He certainly hoped he was not dead yet. He still had much to do... Hope brought him a flash of searing pain. He was incapable of screaming aloud, but his in his thoughts he could scream and swear all he wanted. It hurt so bad, just as bad as it had hurt before. He could see vague shapes now. But each shape was too blurry, hazy, and dull to even fully put together what was happening. Was this a memory too? Was he remembering things?

The pain eventually subsided as he took his time remembering, and the memory no longer pained him. However long it had taken him to remember it, it had been excruciatingly straining for him to remember it. He felt exhausted. But with this memory unlocked he could look at it without causing himself too much agony.

This one was of a creature. A certain kind of being. It was bipedal, if the way it's gangly little body stood told him anything. Most of it was still hazy, as if he had been fatigued when the memory had occurred. The little bipedal creature seemed to have been hurting at the time as well, but not nearly as much as he was. The world shifted as his memory showed himself taking a step back from the other, the creature following with not only a step but a snarl. Quite the unsightly little thing. But there is not much else that is clear to him. The sickening colour was the most well defined part of this memory fragment. Green. Ugh. The colour stirred something deep within him. The feeling churned angrily in his gut like a disgruntled, hungry beast. No. He did not like this creature. He did not even remotely respect this creature of green. His pains soon came back to him, threatening something terrible. So he left the memory alone. He left the colour alone and returned to his previous memory. Rain.

The sound of rain hitting water, flesh, and steel. Such satisfying, lulling sounds. The anger rising in his gut sank back slowly as he listened to the sounds of rain echoing in his memories. It soothed his immeasurable rage and fought off the claustrophobia that threatened to make him panic. It was a quiet sound, a muted sound. A sound he wouldn't dare let himself forget.

 

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Time had been confusing for him. He was unaware and uncertain if it even actually existed in this void he had been subjected to. There had to be some flow of time here. There just had to be. There had to be time because time was always flowing. But the instinctual feeling one gets as time moves forwards was not there. He could not sense the flow of time here. The fact that this place may not have a flow of time was a worrying development for him. There was no threat in this void, nor was there hope. There is absolutely nothing to do here in this void. The lack of threat and hope only left him with his memories. Each time he tried to remember something, it felt like it took hours to do. Yet it had barely even felt like the nanoseconds were ticking by. If time even existed in this abyss of nothingness, it was passing ever so slowly. If any time had passed at all, then he would say it had taken him what felt like years to remember all that he remembered now.

He could piece bits and pieces of it together like a puzzle. There had been some tragedy. Someone he had held dear was almost slaughtered and he had been able to cull the one who had been responsible for it. There had been years, probably centuries passing him by, and all of them had been spent in silence and anger. He had been waiting for something important. He trained every day and every night until it finally happened. There was a cue that made him send a typhoon or something millions of kilometres into the sky to retrieve something. But he had lost that something during the retrieval. It was then that his quest started. A quest of epic proportions, or so he tells himself. He managed to pinpoint his prize once but that bipedal figure had gotten in his way. The creature of green. He hated that creature, even now as he remained motionless in the abyss. The figure almost brought him down, but he had fled. Then he had continued onwards after he had healed himself. Several other encounters with this creature of green occurred all over the lands in his personal quest. Each one had ended in his own defeat. There was an overpowering surge of emotions through this quest of his, and he had fought to keep all negative emotions from taking over him. Not that it would do anyone any good here in this abyss. He couldn't hurt anyone but himself in this god awful place. Then came the triumph, sweet and well deserved after fighting so hard to win. But ultimately, it had led to another defeat, this one more bitter and infuriating than all others before it. After that surge of triumph came the vague memories he had started off with. Rain, thunder and lightning, everything little more than a blur, and the sheer pain of it all.

The memories didn't scare him. They were only memories after all. But out of all his memories, there was only one that frightened him. The memory of a beast like none other, the memory of a living, breathing, walking nightmare. He himself had never been afraid of much, meaning he had never really experienced a nightmare. But this beast was terrifying. Taller than what a normal being should be, with vivid black and crimson scales covering his body. A milky white scar had appeared to have been painted right onto his forehead, and out from his head, neck, and the back of his shoulders was a brilliant blaze of fire. The features beyond this were fuzzy. He could only faintly remember milky white eyes and large, razor sharp teeth. And given the right stance, this beast was pretty bloody terrifying.

His common sense said that the memory of this beast was most likely exaggerated. Fear had a habit of making things look worse than they actually were. But he could not help the shiver that ran through his very soul at the slightest remembrance of this creature. The shadow is often bigger than that who casts it, and it certainly is quite the large shadow being cast. This creature was not one to displease. One would be better off slaughtering themselves after a traitorous act than letting this beast discover it on his own.

How he knew this, he had no idea. But the image of this creature commanded fearful respect and blind loyalty. It felt to be a very threatening and commanding presence, one he did not wish to come into contact with ever again.

It took only what felt like years of searching for his memories to tell him he no longer had to fear this great and powerful beast, for it had been eradicated. Destroyed by this creature of green and sealed away into a blade whose very existence was to eradicate such nightmarish creatures. He still hated this creature in green, of course. The hate he felt for him was a bubbling rage that could not be soothed. But a dim respect had been formed for this creature of green. He had taken down the most terrifying beast he had ever come into contact with. If he ever had the chance to escape this void he was stuck in, he would be certain to clap the creature of green on the back in praise and thanks. But with the way things have been turning out for him, he may not even be in the same era as the creature of green anymore. A shame he never got to express his thanks, yes, but also a relief. He may never again have to encounter the being that had whipped up such violent and angry feelings inside of him. Then again, there was no way for him to properly measure time in this abyss.

If only this torment would end. If only he could be free of this. If he were to be released from whatever god's clutch he was stuck in he would send his thanks to the creature in green. Even if the creature in green was dead there are still ways to show him gratitude and thanks. Perhaps he should pray that he be released from this prison? Another surge of anger stirred inside of him. No. No, he will not be praying to some god. It was their fault he was in this mess, he knew it was. And yet he knew that he too is to blame for such a fate. Surely a god would not punish him without reason? Surely a god would not pick on an innocent for fun? It defied everything that a god was. That is enough. He is tired of thinking of gods and why he was forced into this punishment. He pushed away his thoughts, returning yet again to the sound of a rainstorm. 

 

  
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It had taken forever. No. It had taken him much, much longer than forever. He had taken what felt like eons to remember his life to a decent extent. He could place the young face of the creature in green, as could he with the ancient, nightmarish beast. He could remember what he had been fetching from the sky and why. He could also remember exactly who the nightmarish brute was. Just thinking his name brought a chill to his soul. This brute did not deserve a name. He had twisted and soiled him, destroying his importance in the world with the false praise and admiration. The brute had been a manipulative bastard. Not that he had been much better himself.

He had no idea what he himself looked like. Out of all of his memories, his own reflection had been nothing but a hazy, white blur. Looking at his past affiliations, he could only assume he looked like the nightmarish brute. Big, stocky, disgusting and vile. Yet a part of him knew he had not always been in such a state. If there had been anything in this void that could show him what he looked like, he would leap on the chance to discover himself all over again, no matter how much he dreaded looking like the nightmarish brute.

With little to do in this void, thoughts and memories were all he had to keep himself distracted from his pain. The pain had never left him. It was always there with him, pulsing and irritated. But it was no longer a physical pain. It was a dull, aching throb in his mind. If he became distracted enough he could very well forget that he had ever been hurting. The only things that made his pain increase now were the shattered memories he couldn't piece back together. They were stubborn and sharp. All of these fragments had one over exaggerated sense. One fragment even smelt of some foreign delicacy. Sticky and sweet with the very distinct stench of powdered sugar. With all of his mindless reminiscing he had become oblivious to his surroundings. Even as light began to seep into the void he continued being oblivious. For all he knew he was stuck here forever. He had come to terms with this fact, and he had no intentions of trying to change it. He had finally, one hundred percent given into the idea that he would never escape this solitary prison.

He was more than a little bit surprised when he could feel the sensation of cold, damp earth around him. What? What happened? Just when he had begun to believe that he was stuck in that hell for the rest of his existence, it kicks him out into the world. He could feel the warm sunlight filtering through the leaves to gently heat his crumpled form. A graceful wind blew past him, and he swore he had never shuddered so hard in his life. He was not cold. No, he had shuddered from the intense realization of his new reality. Hazy shades of colour surrounded his vision. Most colours went unregistered by the groggy, weakened being. Is he finally dead? Had he escaped the limbo he had been forever trapped in? Was he finally free?

He tried moving his body, his clogged mind partially excited that he might be able to shift and wriggle. Shift and wriggle was all he could manage before he had to fall still, a strangled groan of agony making its way past his lips. Everything hurt. He had not been healed from his past life, and now that he was paying more attention, he could tell he was still bleeding in several spots. Oh great. He's a sitting duck in unknown territory. Not that he has to fear most living beasts. It's more of just the fact someone could kill him as he was now. He was disheveled and weak, chilled and shivering on the ground. His limbs felt heavy and his eyelids kept sagging shut. No no. He cannot pass out now. It is not safe for him to faint.

He wasn't given much of a choice. It wasn't long until he let his eyes droop closed and let his pained body relax and recover on the floor there. Whatever was coming for him would have a hard time removing him from his thin place of safety. His body seemed to ripple before it faded away. The only thing remaining where the injured being had lain was a thin cutlass, made of black steel and a red pommel gem. No ordinary beast or mortal had the capabilities of drawing him out of this sword, nor did they possess the strength to shatter his blade at all. Surely he could be safe here for the time being. Considering he was out in the middle of nowhere with nothing but thickly grouped tree mass, he would be completely hidden from those who weren't looking for him.

At least that's what he thought as he let sleep wash over him. A creature in all blues and beige had been watching him from where they stood. He had witnessed all of what happened. From the figure melting into existence to the flicker and fading of the body into the sword. This magic sword was not hidden from anyone at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Storms are not a fun experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooo boy this is about nine months overdue. I had the draft for this chapter sitting on my drive unedited, and after talking to some friends last night I finally got up off my ass to write it. Actually, I didn't have to write anything. I had to tear a solid half of the chapter off. By doing that though I've got approximately another chapter ready for editing. All three chapters, the first, this one, and the unedited third all seem to be about 3k words each. Funny how that works out huh? We'll see if I can't edit this either today or tomorrow. Hopefully it won't be another nine months lol. Thanks for sticking around.
> 
> Changed some stuff up today, and now change in time/perspective has a page break in it.

* * *

* * *

            Rain ceaselessly bombarded the forests for three days and three nights. Every brook, river and stream had broken its banks with the sudden surge that rushed downstream towards Lake Floria. The lake itself was threatening to spill over its boundaries. Fauna was forced to evacuate their homes to higher grounds in attempts to avoid the rising waters, fleeing to the outskirts of the forests where the ground is higher up. Those less bold or willing to leave the shelter of the forest took the chance of hiding within the treetops. The higher ground had turned muddy and soft underfoot, squelching with the steps of the forest’s residents while the lower grounds had began to resemble marshes. The only things that seemed to benefit from this flooding were the aquatic and amphibian wildlife, but even they seemed to struggle with the rains.

            Storms this severe were new and alien to the forest’s southern settlement. Thankfully the village had been built high enough above the water levels to avoid the flooding, but the gentle slope of the land they lived on proved to have its own problems. The rain swept away everything that was left outside of the houses. Anything that was light enough to float was carried away down the rivers and streams and off into the distant lake.

            The new residents of the forest were hidden away inside their houses. Children, adults, and elders alike stayed out of the downpour in fear of the storm. Thunder and lightning tore through the sky, lighting the world below with brilliant flashes of electricity and deafening those upon it with loud roars that seemed to shake the skies. It was different, perhaps too different. The residents of Skyloft had been much more used to the lightning illuminating the cloud barrier below them. When the lightning was below them they had nothing to fear. It could only strike down and other clouds around them. Not once had the dirt block they had grown up on been struck by lightning. Below the cloud barrier, however, they had everything to fear. In the past two years lightning had struck at least one of their buildings and several trees. There were far more lightning strikes than they had ever witnessed before in recorded history. The fires that had resulted from the lightning strikes had either been doused soon after they had started by the rain or continued to burn the trees in the surrounding area. After seeing displays like that not even the most rebellious of teenagers and knights wanted to venture out during a storm, especially not in one like this. The small settlement situated on the hill of the Goddess Statue was only considered a sanctuary from the floods that swept through the rest of the forest.

            Closer to the edges of the walls surrounding the grounded Goddess Statue sat the newest version of the Knight Academy. This structure was almost an exact replica of the one sitting in the sky. However, this one was larger. With a few extra fenced off fields, the knights could practice their swordsmanship and erect massive coops to offer a safe nesting spot to their Loftwings. Even down on the surface the Loftwings were useful, but ambrosia be damned if the great birds didn't have a sheltered place to hide from the foreign dangers of their new home. Storms and predatory monsters like Lizalfos and the newly discovered Wolfos threatened the feathered beasts. Despite the new abundance of life saving mushroom spores, readily available in case a Loftwing is seriously injured, there is still a high chance that an injured Loftwing becomes a dead Loftwing.

            Inside the academy the knights had taken shelter from the storm in their rooms. Hidden away from the ever violent downpour outside and snuggled deep beneath thick quilts, knights of all ages had settled down for a well deserved rest. But as safe as they were from the torrential rains no one was safe from the rumbling claps of the thunder. Thunder penetrated thick walls and sturdy roofs protecting the knights from the storm.

            An exceptionally loud crack of thunder sent one of the resident knights skittering out of his room and down the halls. He wasted no time fleeing to a new room at the sound of the thunder. Quiet as a soul he rushed to the room he knew he could be safe in. The young knight herded himself in without knocking. He had been here several times before and by now it might as well have been routine. At the edge of the solitary bed sat an extra quilt and a pillow. The pillows and blanket awaiting where he sat signalled that the resident of this room had expected his visit. It was hard for her not to. He did this every time it rained and she knew as soon as she saw the rolling clouds threatening this awful storm that he would come to her in the night. He immediately sought out the resident of this new room and sat down beside her bed. She herself hadn't been fully asleep, stirred by the crashing thunder and streaks of lightning from behind the drapes of her window. She shifted under her covers when he laid his head down on the bed near hers and she reached her hand out to him. He gratefully took her hand when she extended it.

            The intruding knight usually stayed outside of her bed when it stormed, content with the comfort offered to him in the form of pillows, blankets, and hand holding. But of course the skies decided to share their fiercest storm with them this night. He jolted when yet another flash of lightning lit up the sky and another clap of thunder boomed in its wake. He was pushing his way under her covers in a matter of seconds, shaking like a leaf and hiding as close to her as he possibly could. A soft sound of discomfort came from her as he struggled with the heavy quilts.

            No matter how much she protested, she wouldn't dare shove him out of her bed. He was her friend, and she would do as much as she physically could to help him. Right now he needed all of the help he could get. She would be more than happy to provide it. She held the trembling knight close to her, arms wrapped firmly around his shoulders and waist. He hooked his own underneath her arms, gripping at the back of her night shirt and pressing his face into the crook of her neck in his desperate search for comfort. She couldn't berate him for his fear of the storm outside. There were others in the settlement that feared the storms, but it was never to the extent that he did. Most pulled the covers over their heads, or hid away in the safety of their homes with their favourite beverage or pet. Not him. Each time a storm came he cowered, tears soaking his face and nightmares dancing behind his eyelids. He flinched at every roar of thunder and shook in apprehension at the sight of lightning. She could feel him trying his damnedest not to cry, every shake of his shoulders and ragged breath. It crushed her heart to know that something as simple as this could scare him half to death.

            The last time he had entered a storm without fearing the thunder and lightning was the near the end of his taxing journey. He used to love the rain, used to describe the way it smelt and the look of the sky letting loose the droplets with an awestruck glimmer in his eyes. For the brief moment they shared when he had woken her from her millennia of slumber he had chattered on and on about how truly beautiful the world was and how he loved every inch and aspect of it despite the danger it held. That pure love for the storms he had spoken of had died in him when he went off to that final fight.

            She didn't know exactly what had gone on between him and their foes in that struggle. With her soul having been stolen from her she had nearly lost her life, stuck in limbo until either he or their foes were victorious. When she woke once more he had returned to her. He had been battered, bruised, and seemingly all right, but the light she had seen in his eyes before he left had died. He tried his best to look like it was nothing, like he was still his same carefree self. He had been a good liar. Groose had bought it, as did Impa. But she did not. She knew him all too well, knew him far better than Impa and Groose, to fall for his brave faced lies. Something had happened to him in that fight that had scared the joyous and carefree soul out of his body.

            _“And it was all because of you.”_

            The ugly thought made her wince. As much as she would have liked to deny it she believed it was true. It had been her past self that had laid out the plan that would end up destroying her friend. It had been her past self that had sent Impa out on her quest to find and protect her from evil. It had been her who had run from him at every twist and turn at Impa’s orders because ‘a goddess should not let anything stop her path to peace’ and that ‘the fate of the world rested on her shoulders as well as his’. She had left him to face countless hardships through his quest that even two years after his world had settled he still couldn't bear to even talk about what really happened. It was her fault he was like this now, her fault that he spent longer and longer in bed every day, her fault that he couldn't handle the mere sounds of distant thunder, _it was her fault-_

            Another clap of thunder and the quiet whimper breathed into her shoulder snapped her out of her angry, self loathing thoughts. With a silent sigh she held him even tighter, trying to convince him that the nightmares and the storm couldn't get him when he was cradled in her arms. It was now once she held him tighter did he let the tears fall and stain her night shirt with his silent sobs. All she could do was hold him and stroke down his back in hopes of comforting him. She couldn't do much else with the storm crashing about outside. All she could do was hope that the storm passed quickly and that he would be allowed to sleep easy for the rest of the night. It was wishful thinking, but it was all she had.

 

* * *

 

            On the dawn of the fourth morning the rain finally faltered, first into a softer downfall and then into the lightest misting before it stopped all together. The rivers and streams were still flooded past their banks, the ponds and lakes nearly overflowing with the excess water, but at least the storm had passed. The residents of the settlement couldn't have been happier about it. Many of them made haste to tidy their porches and their small yards. After a storm like that, no one could skip a chore. Flying the Loftwings, hunting and gathering, small parties to reclaim the lost items that had drifted away with the waters occupied the village. The knights searched the edges of the settlement to ensure that no monsters had wandered forth looking for an easy meal. Many were sure that there wouldn't be any monsters after such severe flooding, but they needed to be sure that none were trying. The new breed of monster, the Wolfos, were wily enough and certainly desperate enough for a fresh meal to venture close to the settlement.

            As their duty to protect, several knights were sent out to patrol the area. Two groups of knights set out in opposite directions into the forest, led by the Hero and the Goddess Reborn themselves. Zelda led her party south, farther than their little settlement to ensure that the cliffs were clear of any monsters trying to set up camp. Link led his group north towards the Skyview Temple to fend off monsters who enjoyed lurking near the temples. Even after two years there were still things the knights from the sky needed to learn, things that only Link and Zelda had become intimate with.

            Link led his party with quiet determination. Any fears and tears from the night before had been pushed away from his mind and hidden from the public eye. He was still the knight who knew how to handle monster and beasts from the surface the best, and the knights with him now still needed someone to show them the tips and tricks he had learned for dealing with the rare beasts within the forest. The fears and anxieties he held were nothing more than a burden that he shouldered in silence. Trudging ahead of the group, the knights were blatantly unaware of Link’s uncharacteristic silence as they chattered away to one another like excitable birds. Link did not share their excitement to be out and about again. He hated fearing the sounds of thunder and the sights of lightning. He hated the memories of fearsome attacks, the way the rival’s blade glinted in the sharp flashes of electricity and how the rain stained had soaked their dancing forms. He couldn't stop the quaking fear he felt as that jagged blade tore through his armor and ripped his skin apart. He couldn't forget the way the hulking nightmare of a demon nearly cut his sword arm clean off his shoulder.

            A hand found his shoulder and he jumped, whipping his head around to see who was touching him. He had prepared himself to see that beast again, but was thoroughly relieved to see it had only been one of his party members. She had a look on her face, one of confusion and concern. Link figured that he had been wearing a startling expression and softened his face into a smile. Any questioning words or looks were dismissed with the gentle assurance that he was fine, that he was “just lost in his thoughts”. Though not entirely convinced Link was okay, they didn't push him any farther when they returned to their scouting. At some point during his thoughts they had arrived at Skyview Temple. Thankfully whatever monsters liked to reside within its depths hadn't made their appearance outside.

            As much as Link would have liked to fight he hadn't wanted to draw his blade. The weapon he wielded now was one he despised. It was cold. Lifeless. Nothing more than a piece of metal that would never thrum with life. He preferred the quiet scouting over the chaotic dance of battle with an inanimate sword. The loss of his companion was another aspect of his quest he couldn't forget. It was a part of his quest he never wanted to forget. She had been the best part about his chaotic and uncertain destiny. She had brought some form of order to his otherwise disorderly and savage journey. Sure, she had never been one for casual conversation or friendships, but having someone beside him, someone to help him in the ways of advice and analysis of his surroundings, someone for silent companionship… She had been a lifesaver.

            He credited the fact that he hadn’t gone completely mad to her. Always the voice of reason, always the light that shone the way towards their goal. He remembered the spirit fondly, never letting her name or her face or her voice fade from his memories. Fi had helped him more than she would have ever liked to have admit. Too humble and modest, merely stating that she was offering little help in comparison to what he had been tasked to do. And as much as he wished that he could forget the pain of losing the only friend he had that knew of his struggles to save his childhood friend, he couldn't help but relish the times they had shared. She had been the one good thing on his adventure. He wouldn't dare allow himself to forget her. It was because of her today that he’d rather not use a different blade in battle. At least with her by his side in battle he had the comfort of a friend and the advice from several millennia of wisdom. Artificial or not, there wasn't a sword in this plane of existence that could replicate the feeling of power, the feeling of life beneath his fingers as he held onto its hilt. Even in her sheathe he could still feel the comforting life of her blade. If only he could have his companion back. At least then he could have another comfort in his life. It was selfish of him to wish for more than he had been given but he couldn't deny how much he had missed her stoic voice like he had missed Zelda’s smile.

            His brooding continued as he searched the grounds with the rest of his party, dispatching a small number of Deku Baba that had survived the storm. He never drew his blade, opting to watch the other knights take turns slashing them in half with their own swords. Even out in the field they were practising their skills, honing all of the new methods of disposing of monsters they had been taught. Maybe one day they wouldn't need him on their patrols. The knights seemed to be capable of handling themselves just fine, and once they got all of the techniques mastered they could teach the rest of the knights back at the academy on how to deal with everything. Of course there were still a few monsters that none of the Skyloftians knew how to take care of. Staldra and Stallords rarely left the depths of the temples, preferring to stay out of the light and out of the harsher, above ground conditions. Being made of bones and patches of withered, rotting flesh made them vulnerable to the elements. If they didn't come looking for trouble with the settlement then they wouldn't go looking for trouble in the ruins.

            With the threat of the Deku Babas spreading closer to the village dispatched, the knights split up and wandered off to search the rest of the area for any monsters that dared show themself. Link remained put in front of the temple, staring at the long since closed doors. He had closed them himself after the fetch quest for a basin of Sacred Water for the Water Dragon. It wasn't that he didn't like exploring in the odd ruins and temples across the land, he just didn't want any more monsters making an appearance from the lower levels of the temple. He hadn't wanted to deal with the beasts back then, and he certainly didn't want to deal with any of them now. It was better for everyone if the temple doors remained sealed.

            Standing here now before the great stone doors of the temple brought him a strange sense of urgency, a wild need to dive back into the ruins. He knew why he felt he needed to rush in, but he tried to convince himself there would be nothing. There had been nothing in there but the piles of broken and shattered bones from the Stallords he fought long ago. There was nothing in there that could harm the people of the settlement. Yet he found himself tempted to open the doors and charge right back down into that room. Maybe it would do him some good, give him the closure he still felt like he needed to put his past to rest. Surely it would be okay to open the doors for a few hours to make sure everything was fine...

            Link hadn't realized just how odd he had been acting, standing in front of the door and staring at it intently. Another knight of his group had come back from his search to find Link standing there, fists continuously clenching and unclenching, shoulders shaking and lower lip caught between his teeth. When asked if everything was all right, Link mustered a nod. He dropped the stance he had taken and smiled at the other knight. He must have made his intentions clear. He asked if he wanted some company when he descended into the temple. Link merely shook his head.

            “No, thank you. This is something that I would rather do alone.”

            He was about to object to Link, to tell him it was too dangerous to go alone and that he should take someone with him, but the return of the rest of the party trickling into the clearing made him hesitate. His hesitation was the opening Link needed. The young hero gently ushered the other towards the gathering party with a gentle smile on his face.

            “Don’t worry about me. I’ve done this kind of thing before. I’ll be back before sundown, I promise. You take the rest of the knights home.”

            Reluctant to leave the hero on his own, the knight nodded and made his way back to the others. The announcement that Link would not be joining them on the trip home seemed to startle some of them, but they accepted the decision without much fuss. Herding themselves together, the small group of knights started on their way home, shouting good luck and waving to the hero. He waved back to them, standing in front of the temple until they were all out of sight and earshot. As soon as they disappeared in the distance Link’s smile faded and gave way to a worrisome frown.

            He turned back around, facing the doors once more. Letting out a soft, shuddering breath, he placed both palms against the stone, gripping it so tight his knuckles turned ashen.

            “This is something I have to do by myself,” he whispered. And with a great and mighty heave, he slowly began to push open the doors.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my dudes. Tell me what you liked and disliked about the chapter, and feel free to give me any creative criticism you have for it. We'll see if I can't implement it into the third chapter, assuming I get comments the day this goes up lol. Thanks for reading, hopefully chapter three will be done by tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zelda kinda freaks out, and I guess Link does too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's fucking 12:39 in the morning and I am very very tired, but after seeing the wonderful comment recently added to chapter 2 I couldn't let chapter 3 sit and waste away for more than a few days. Thank you so much my dude for leavin a comment, and to all those who left comments before. Reading them and rereading them again really helped me finish this up. Hope y'all enjoy!

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            It had been a little over two hours since Zelda and her party of knights had returned from their patrol, and at least an hour since Link’s patrol returned from theirs. There had been no sign of Link anywhere. Of course she gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he just wanted to return home on a different route? It wasn’t the worst thing in the world to want a change of scenery every now and then. Maybe he was just going to visit Faron for a little bit? The great spirit had a keen eye of what was happening in the land she watched over. Maybe he was just going to go check up on their Kikwi neighbours after that terrible four day storm? Despite the creatures living on the surface fine long before they had shown up, it was hard not to be concerned about them. He was the hero of the lands, after all. It was in his nature to care, protect, and explore. He could damn well take care of himself.

            But the longer he didn't return, the more worried she became. He may be the Hero of the Skies, the hero who single handedly destroyed what has been told to be the most dangerous demon in all of history, but he’s still a goof ball. He’s still a dork who has to whisper the childhood rhymes to tie the laces on his formal boots. He’s still the idiot who tries to walk over ponds on thin tree limbs, only to have his branch break and send him splashing into the waters below. He’s still young and adventurous, too much so for his own good. And most importantly, he’s still the man that had been her best friend since the day they met as children at the Knight Academy. Of course she was worried about him.

            When his party of knights had returned, one of them had informed her that he was headed into the Skyview Temple. He said he had offered him company into the temple, thinking of how dangerous the depths of it could be, but was ultimately shot down. While none of the knights had any doubts that Link would be fine, they all still worried for him. It was the first temple he had gone into when he had been searching for her. That much of his journey he had shared. It was also the first place the both of them had encountered that monster of a demon. She didn't even want to think of his name. Memories from a life long ago surfaced, but they were quickly pushed down into the back of her mind. She doesn't want to think of those times either. They only made her bitter and upset.

            After her soul had been taken from her, Zelda hadn’t heard anything of what had become of their foes. All Link told her was that everything had been taken care of. Two years ago she had wholeheartedly believed him. Now, however, she was beginning to feel like she had instead fallen for one of his brave faced lies. Something had begun to feel off to her. Something was out of place, like there was danger lurking somewhere in the far edges of the forests. She tried to convince herself that she was just mad from exhaustion, that the stress of having people know about Hylia was getting to her. But as the hours began to tick by without any sign of Link, red flags were being set off in her mind. There is danger awaiting in that temple. Not only the normal monsters and old traps, but a real and life threatening danger is stirring in the bowels of that temple, and Link is in there with it.

            Curled up in her room in the Knight Academy, Zelda allowed some time to pass, trying her damnedest to believe that Link would return. He could certainly handle himself in some dusty old ruins. Three hours after Link’s patrol of knights had arrived, Zelda had enough of waiting around. She grabbed what she thought she would need; a sword, a shield, a couple of heart potions, a few first aid supplies, her bow and a quiver of arrows. Out the door and down the halls she ran, avoiding as many people as she could in hopes that she wouldn’t waste time. Some other knights and instructors stopped her, curious where she was going like she had lost her head. She made it very clear to the people that questioned her that yes, it was time to fly her Loftwing again and that she had been neglecting his two flights a day regimen. They were suspicious of her, but figured she had a good reason to be skipping out on patrols she would be scheduled for. She was good for her daily tasks and taking a day off after working so hard was understandable. She could make up for the missed patrols later. Thankfully, everyone let her off without asking too many questions. Time is of the essence, especially when it involves the safety of a childhood friend.

            Zelda was nearly out of breath running to the Loftwing coops and slowed to catch her breath. Once she stopped panting she stuck two fingers in her mouth and blew hard, whistling loud and sharp towards the coop of Loftwings. The all too familiar cry of her bird sounded within the structure and within moments her companion was rushing out, running towards her on awkward legs. Loftwings may be graceful in the sky but ambrosia be damned if they weren't ungainly on land. Her Loftwing dipped his head once they were close enough to each other, stretching his beak out to her hand in search of pets. She met his beak firmly and risked the few moments it took to greet her companion.

            “Yes yes, it’s good to see you again, too, dear friend.”

            She allowed herself to keep petting him for only a moment more. Drawing away from her Loftwing’s beak, Zelda moved to his side and climbed up into the saddle secured to his back. Once seated safely and comfortable, Zelda urged her bird into the sky with a shout. It was a struggle for him to take off with her on his back. For all their time together he had been soaring through the skies and catching her midair. Loftwings were unused to a takeoff from the ground, but with a few years of practice the avian companions seemed less burdened by it.

            Strong, rhythmic wing beats swept them up into the sky, carrying them higher and higher over the Knight Academy. It wasn’t long until they were a safe distance up, and once they were Zelda took firm hold of the leather pouch belt around her Loftwing’s neck. He only needed a quick tug to orient himself properly.

            Her Loftwing flew swift and true as he carried her towards the Skyview Temple. Other Skyloftians were out and about in the sky, flying over the forest for either their own enjoyment or to carry back items that had been washed away in the floods of yesterday’s storm. Many of the knights she passed waved to Zelda, but she did not wave back. Her mind was elsewhere, focused on what could be happening to Link inside the temple. What if he was hurt and couldn't move on his own? What if he was unconscious? What if he’s fighting this thing, this oddity that was making every one of her mental alarms go off? She didn’t want to think what might have happened to Link if he engaged the danger and failed to win the battle. He was strong and by no means cowardly, but there is always a bigger fish in the sea.

            Two years ago she had entrusted him with the Triforce. Initially he had turned her down and refused, but Zelda had pushed him to wield it. Unable to turn her down a second time he took the Triforce into his care. He had the many eons of Power, Wisdom, and Courage with him at all times to use as he needed. Should he find himself in a battle he couldn't win alone, surely he would use what he needed to tip the odds back into his favour. He wouldn't use the Triforce so mindlessly either. He was responsible, powerful, courageous and humble. He had been the perfect candidate to wield all three pieces. However, him having all three pieces opened up the possibility of him being the target for any invading evils set on claiming the Triforce for themselves. She knew that she shouldn't be worrying about that kind of event happening. Not even her nosy father knew the whereabouts of the Triforce, and neither Link or herself had spoken a word of its existence to anyone else. If he didn't know where the Triforce had ended up then surely no one else knew.

            Then again, the Skyloftians weren’t fluent with magic. They didn’t seem to have the gift to read the magical signatures of the Triforce like she and Link did. What if a creature who could sense the magic of the Triforce hidden within the hero showed up? What if he decided he wanted the power to himself? Would Link be able to fend the creature off with the Triforce, or would he be overpowered? It wasn’t impossible that there were other living things on the surface. They hadn’t known that Kikwis existed, and they had only explored a small bit of land. What were they to do should a new evil arise to take the power for themselves?

            All of her worrying had her so lost in thought that she had nearly missed her stop. It took a sudden bristle of feathers from her Loftwing to bring her back to reality. They had reached the Skyview Temple. It certainly didn't feel like they should have been at the temple in such a short amount of time, but it takes only a fraction of the time to fly than it does to walk. Zelda muttered her thanks to her bird, giving him a gentle pet to his neck before sliding out of the saddle. She fell through the air, rolling from her back onto her stomach and spreading her legs and arms out wide. Her mustard yellow tunic fluttered wildly in the wind as she descended towards the earth, braided hair snapping and flailing around her grim face. She felt no fear as the ground came rushing towards her. Having done it countless times before, Zelda pulled out her own Sail Cloth by the corners of the fabric and braced herself. The pastel blue fabric caught the wind and jerked, her arms aching from the sudden halt of momentum. Slowly she drifted the rest of the way down to the earth, hanging from the Sail Cloth until her feet hit the ground. Zelda stuffed the cloth back into her belt where it belonged and gave her shoulders a roll. A small pang of anticipation ran through her. The doors to the temple were cracked open, as if someone had tried to close them on their way in.

            Mustering up her own courage, Zelda walked up the stairs and peered into the crack of the open doors. It was as dark as ever in the temple’s staircase, with only the light of the mushrooms to illuminate the darkened halls. Much like Link had hours earlier, Zelda heaved a shaky breath before shoving one of the doors open herself. She slipped into the temple, and started to push the door back into place as she found it. Better they keep the monsters inside with them than have them wander around outside and potentially attack the settlement. Better they deal with the monsters themselves. This was something they had to do on their own.

 

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            The temple was normal. The mushrooms were normal. Every room, every hall, every single piece of rot and moss and crumbling stone was normal. One hundred percent, completely and utterly normal. It should have soothed him. The fact that any monsters that had been living in the temple were still there and mulling around like nothing had even happened should have soothed him. He should have been fine knowing that everything was how he had left it, that everything had been in the same place he had remembered it to be. And yet he felt fear. A trembling, shivering fear deep within his guts that refused to release him from its grip. Something about the tranquility within the temple made him want to vomit, or maybe tear out all of his hair. He loved the fact that nothing was wrong in the temple, relished the peace and serenity that had left this temple stagnant. But the fact that everything was fine didn't sit right with him at all. Maybe it was just the new instincts from his time spent adventuring telling him to always be on his toes, always be alert, always watch your back because there will always be something looking to tear your head from your shoulders. Maybe he just hasn't settled from his journey, maybe the peace is still so new after an adventure as brutal as his that he just can't deal with it as he was once able to. This wasn’t the first time he felt so anxious either, but it still didn’t feel right being lumped into such a category.

            He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, the leather dragging uncomfortably against his sweaty brow. Perhaps he would blame his feeling of discomfort and worry on silence in the temple. If only the temple were silent. It was the farthest thing from silent. There was the soft skittering of Skulltula foot pods on stone and rotting wood, the scratching, dragging sound of withered flesh on dry and dusty earth, the sounds of Stallords wandering aimlessly within the individual rooms. It wasn't silent, and he desperately wished that he could have blamed such discomfort on silence. Clambering over the tree roots and across crumbled walls, Link glanced over at the large double doors at the heart of the temple. The gold plated doors shone softly in the light of the glowing mushrooms. Link couldn't decide if he wanted something to be in there or not. There was only way to find out.

            Link kept climbing his way across the edges of the room. It was no different from the route he took the first time in the temple. The rope drawn tight across the front of the room to the double doors had finally rotted away. It had been on its last legs when he ventured in the first time, and it was only a matter of time before it snapped. He had no problems with taking the same path he had taken the first time he explored the place, he’d just have to be careful when he swung himself across the abyss in the floor of the room. It was a long way down, and he had no intentions of trying to climb out of that darkened pit any time soon.

            The vines he used the first time he had ventured in were thankfully still strong and still growing. Leaves and even small flowers bloomed on the thickening tendrils. The roots of the plant seemed to have extended farther into the stone above. Hopefully it would prove to be a better anchor for his weight rather than it all come crumbling down from the ceiling. Shifting anxiously from one foot to the other, Link steadied himself on the branch of a tree. He counted down, whispering numbers under his breath as he stared intensely at the vine. On the count of one he ran, leaping from the edges of the branch with arms outstretched towards the vines. His heart leapt into his throat once he felt thick, scraggly leaves and vines under his hands, and he grasped at the foliage, clawing for support. His arms jerked painfully as the vine held tight, swinging forwards with the momentum of his jump. He was swung right towards the next vine which looked just as sturdy as the one he clung to. Without thinking he leapt, swinging his legs forwards and reaching out his arms once more. He caught the vine, his weight jerking against his hold on it. One more vine, one more swing, and then he’ll be right in front of those double doors. He swung his legs forth again, leaping right for the third vine with arms outstretched. He grasped it tight, ready to swing towards the safety of the platform in front of those gleaming golden doors. The vine lurched rather suddenly under his weight, throwing his concentration for a mere moment. A moment of lost focus was all he needed to slip from the plant life, falling just out of reach of the platform. He hit the earth that supported the platform instead, wheezing and clawing at the earth in hopes of catching himself. He slid down the side of the broken stones, grabbing wildly at anything that could stop his descent into the abyss below.

            For the fourth time this day his body was jarred, yanked mercilessly at his shoulders as he just managed to grab a jutting ledge on the rock wall. By the time the day was done his arms would be numb and void of feeling. For now the only thing he could do was grit his teeth and climb. Link scaled his way back up the wall, digging his fingers into any and all hand holds to help himself back up the edge. It took a few minutes to get himself back up to the edge, and a few minutes more to actually drag himself over the edge and onto the safety of the floor. He rolled onto his back the moment he was on top of the ledge, panting for breath. He just needed a few minutes to calm down and catch his breath.

            Torso aching, body quivering, and heart beating in his throat, Link raised his hands to inspect the damage done. There was nothing more than small scratches, grit lodged underneath his well trimmed nails and dirt covering his palms and fingers. A shaky breath left his quivering body. He might be courageous, but nearly falling into some black abyss for who knows how long would terrify anybody. Even heroes have the reasonable fear of falling down into places where they are unable to drag themselves out.

            However long the minutes he wanted to spend catching his breath were, Link knew that he was doing nothing more than stalling, keeping himself from his original goal. He’d been desperate to see what awaits him within the gold plated room before him. He slowly pushed himself up, first onto his elbows, then to his knees, and finally to his feet. A few seconds were spent briskly brushing dirt off of his person before he gathered his courage to approach the doors. Every faltering step brought the glimmering doors closer and sent his heart racing faster and faster. Each heaving breath caught in his throat in time with every beat of his heart. Touching the doors felt like touching a charged piece of wool clothing, mental static racing through his body as both hands rested on the doors. All he had to do now was push them open and step inside. His fears came worming back to the front of his mind. What if everything wasn’t just how he left it? What if there was something waiting in there for him? What if there was someone waiting for him in there?

            “The only way to find out is to open the doors.”

            Having his thoughts interrupted by one piece of logic broke the temporary paralysis his body had succumbed to. Bracing himself for whatever it was he would find lying in wait just behind the doors, Link gave a mighty heave. The doors creaked open, scraping against the stone floors loudly and ringing through the room. Both of the doors groaned shut behind him as Link entered the darkest chamber of the temple.

 

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            Zelda had taken a good long look into every room in the temple. Each time she searched a new room her hopes of finding her friend were crushed by the lack of the hero and the lingering monsters. She had no problems dealing with any of the monsters who did linger in the rooms. Those who attacked her were dealt a clean and merciful death by her blade, and those who ignored her were in turn ignored themselves. Seems that without a virulent leader controlling their actions the residing monsters were rather docile in nature. She really did appreciate not having to dispatch any more of these monsters than she had to. Zelda wasn’t big on the whole fighting thing anyways, preferring to settle any and all differences and disputes with words rather than blades. Though her preferences on the issue mattered little when she was more than capable of taking care of herself. The monsters who were unruly enough to attack her learned the hard way that she was very knowledgable with a sword and her arrows.

            Despite any relief she felt having to engage in combat as little as she did, disappointment and worry boiled up inside of her. There had been no sign of Link other than still wet footsteps from where he had passed through a puddle or the odd footprint in wet dirt. If he was headed deeper into the temple he was being awfully ambiguous about it. He must have been searching for something deep in the temple if his fresh footprints were littering the floors and leading into every single nook and cranny of any room he could get himself into. Nothing was more difficult than finding a swordsman who was all too determined to bring closure to his past adventures.

            As the minutes crawled by during her fruitless search for her friend, it became increasingly obvious that her fear that Link was hurt was entirely irrational. He left only footprints in his wake, nary a drop of blood, a piece of torn fabric or a sign of a struggle to be found. Zelda still feared for him, still feared that he was alone and hurt and bleeding out somewhere in the depth of the temple, but seeing how little fighting he had been doing in the temple was enough to soothe her fears for the time being. He was nineteen now and he was fully capable of taking care of himself in these kinds of situations. He had proved this ability by launching himself through his life threatening quest two years prior, back when he was just midway through his seventeenth year. He is strong, he is smart, and he is capable. She has nothing to fear.

            As her search brought her deeper and deeper into the temple, Zelda’s fears shrank to a small and insignificant size. She had made it to the room she remembered all too well. Impa from this era had directed her here, telling her that all she had to do was swing her way across one last room to breach a small hall of safety. She had been fleeing at the time, having sensed that god forsaken demon lurking close behind her, and she still remembered the quickest and safest route through the room. Cork soles tapping lightly against the stone of the floors, Zelda trotted her way forwards toward the edge of the stable floors. Unlike Link before her, who had daringly swung from vine to vine to reach the other side, Zelda knew of a pile of crumbling stone. There was enough of it to stand up from the bottom of the dark crevice in the floor, but not enough to be completely visible from the murky blackness. The poor visibility did not deter her. Carefully as she could she slid down the side of the earth that supported the stone floors, descending rather smoothly into the ever growing darkness. Her feet soon hit the top of the wreckage and she staggered, catching herself after a mere second of instability. The pile was just as wide and just as packed as it had been the first time she had arrived, and without a fear in the world Zelda marched along the hidden surface of the wreckage.

            Zelda made it across the gap with only a moment’s falter when she accidentally knocked a loose stone out of place. Once she was at the other side of the ill-lit wreck, she lifted her arms and legs and slowly began to climb her way up and out of the black crevice. Her climb up was just as easy as her descent. In no time her leisurely clamber was over and she was standing before the golden double doors. Wiping her hands on her tunic, she hesitated. Her fears came crawling back, digging into the edges of her mind. Link had to have been in this room. She had followed every footprint through every hall and room all the way to this one. He had to have been safe inside of this room. He had not left a drop of blood, fabric, or struggle in his wake. But he could have very well been wounded by whatever was lurking inside. He had been fine up until now, but what if he wasn't fine now that he was inside? Taking a now shivering breath, Zelda rested her hands on the doors.

            “Only one way to find out…”

            She pushed the glittering doors open and slipped between them. The doors swung shut behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyyyyyy y'all made it through that hell of a ride. Currently my chapters don't have a whole lot of dialogue, just cause they're focusing mostly on only one character at a time. They don't have anyone to talk to, and to my knowledge normal people don't usually talk to themselves.
> 
> So long story short, I am tired, it is now 12:50 in the morning, I have finished editing and writing and perfecting it for AO3, so here it is. Here ya go. Chapter 3, polished and shiny and full of sleepy elbow grease. As per usual, if you have and comments or questions, feel free to ask, and y'all are welcome to drop any creative criticism on here if you've got it. Thanks fam, have a stellar night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghirahim isn't having a great time right now, and Zelda and Link are having an excellent time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely didn't take me as long to upload this one as it did chapter 2 eh??? Lol just introducing characters and trying to make everyone feel real. Hopefully I achieved that. Hope y'all enjoy!

            No life could be sustained here on this plane of floating stone. No birds, no bugs, not even grass. This land once held beauty, but all that remained were the charred husks of tree trunks and empty stream beds. The sun burned bright in the sky above, warming the bleached disoriented stone far hotter than the usual heat. Even as he ran he could feel the earth burning into the soles of his feet through his footwear. Dilapidated buildings stark white from the blistering sun whipped past him, crumbling into dust the further he ran. He could see no use in any of them. No weapons, no hiding spots, nothing. Each building couldn’t offer him protection from the beast that chased him. It was on his heels, thundering behind him with every stride, its breath heavy, hot and rancid. He couldn’t tell what it was or how big it was. Any moment to glance back could be his last. All he could do was to keep running.

            His breath hitched as the beast snapped its jaws closed near the back of his neck. He struggled to run faster, hoping to leave the creature behind him. The beast continued to thunder only steps behind him, easily matching his gait. He tried to lose the beast, zig zagging through the back alleyways between the crumbling ruins. He struggled with the ruins of the buildings, skidding and twisting through them and fighting to stay on his feet. The beast simply crashed through them, continuing its pace as if it has only run through a puff of dust. It could not be stopped by the pathetic structures that had once been houses, and it ran even closer behind him now.

            Once again the beast snapped at him, teeth closing far too close to his ankles. He barely managed to dodge them sinking into his legs, and they left several lacerations on his calves. From the way the gashes felt, the beast was no doubt thirteen feet at the shoulder. Fresh wounds would only slow him down. He couldn’t risk losing anymore ground unless he wished to meet with the beast’s teeth once more. He had to try something new to lose the beast.

            In the corner of his eye he caught sight of something promising; it was a river bed that looked more like a canyon, empty and dried from the blazing sun. He couldn’t stop to think about what his options with the river bed could be, not with the beast bounding on his heels. There was only one course of action that came to his mind and it was his best bet. Almost wheezing and panting for breath he made a sharp turn towards the river bed. He took a flying leap, legs stretched forwards towards the safety of the other side. He cleared the miraculous leap with only a quick tumble to the ground to show how close he was to falling inside. He didn’t wait to see if he was safe. If he could clear it, no doubt the beast could. This was a meager attempt to buy himself some time, a hope that the beast would slow, intimidated by the size of the river bed. He scrambled to his feet and he was off running once more. The sounds of the creature running faster made his heart leap into his throat. There was silence from the beast for only a moment before the sound of it crashing to the ground echoed, followed by the thundering steps once more. It had cleared the river bed, with only inches between them to spare.

            He tried to glance behind him, to catch a glimpse of what was actually chasing him. Something in him refused and his head was stuck, glued to face the direction before him. He couldn’t look back, couldn’t stop, couldn’t risk taking a glance, no matter how desperately he wanted to. If only he could just stop! If only he could just fight back! He knew he could take this opponent on, so why didn’t he? Why couldn’t he?!

            Time seemed to slow as the edge of the world came fast. He slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop dangerously close to the edge. Eyes wide and fixated below the land he stood on, he couldn’t seem to register just what it was. An ever shifting mass of eldritch horrors, perhaps, littered with earth shattering groans and distant, piercing shrieks. He couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t think of an escape, couldn’t move, why couldn’t he move?

            In his moments of fear and confusion, the beast had caught up. It closed its jaws around his middle, biting down hard enough for him to hear his ribs and hips crunch under the force. The beast lifted him off the ground, clenching him between its teeth before it spun and let go. He was sent soaring through the air, flailing wildly towards the eldritch mass. In his flailing spins and twirls through the air, he finally managed to catch sight of what had been chasing him.

            She was no longer a beast, but someone all too familiar. She had stone wings, a circular horn extending from and into the crown of her head that glittered like gold. She wore a pure white dress, accented with bracelets and necklaces and jewels that shone in a variety of colours. And around her eyes was a cloth, tied tight beneath the river of golden hair. Though she could not see through the sacred cloth covering her eyes, he knew that she was watching him as he was swallowed by the eldritch mass.

            Darkness enveloped him, and the mixture of sounds and feelings faded into one. He’s trapped, he can’t move, he needs to move, he needs to be free. He shifted, steel contorting and crumbling. It ground together as it shifted into a familiar form, a sound grating against the nerves. He gasped in a breath as his flesh stitched itself back together, pain beginning to flood his systems. From where he had been kneeling on the ground he fell, hands and elbow crashing into the floor and body falling to the side against a wall. Shakily he brought a hand up to palm at his chest, hissing when his fingers grazed a large laceration. As he pulled his hand away, his fingers came away hot and sticky. The world dipped beneath him and he slid down the wall onto the floor. Someone shouting pierced his focus, but the words were swimming just beyond understanding. The voice seemed shocked. Gruff and hardened, but definitely shocked. He lay there on the ground, his chest alive with violent, throbbing pain and his breaths shallow and weak. He fought to open his eyes against the approaching exhaustion but it did him little good.

            The world around him was a blur, colours starting to blend with one another and the world fuzzy, as if it were viewed from beneath the surface of water. From across whatever room he lay in came two pairs of boots, both alike yet slightly different. He wanted to hiss, to snap and fight back. He couldn’t muster anything more than a near silent puff. Two sets of boots were joined by knees, both of the strangers in the room kneeling down beside him. All he could do was sit and wait as the two did what they pleased.

            Hands grabbed ahold of him, though the touches were dull and muted. Something soft slipped beneath his head, perhaps a rolled up shirt or a small towel, maybe even a blanket. His head lolled to the side, cheek pressing into the numbing softness. Whatever these two were doing, it seemed like less of a threat to his wellbeing. Pain that was fresher than the throbbing aches in his body flared to life, cold and irritated on his arms. It managed to draw a hiss from him, but it was weak and short lived as it tapered off into an inaudible whine. Hands worked on his arms, firm and rough with their handling. Something thick and tight was wound around them, uncomfortably warm and wet as they were. The second set of hands pressed down on his chest, pushing something scratchy into the wound. It stung, burning through the wound and outwards in his torso. Another hiss, this one stronger than first, wormed its way up his throat and passed his lips. Neither of the hands seemed to consider stopping.

            By now, whoever was playing with his arms had finished their meddling and the hands moved over to his sides. His back arched in their grip, hair beginning to mat against his cheek and forehead. The hands that had been pressing against his chest shifted off, but the scratchy material remained. It had started to go numb, as had the rest of his body. Something just as tight, warm and uncomfortably wet began to wrap around his middle, constricting his chest and tying the scratchy material in place. He didn’t have the energy to protest.

            His torso was lowered back down to the ground, numb and warm. The pain he had once felt in his arms and shoulders had begun to fade as well, replaced by warmth and a lack of feeling. He couldn’t quite register what was happening to his legs outside of a quick crack and a sharp jolt of pain that faded momentarily. A hand, damp and hot, came down to brush along his face, pushing strands of hair behind a mangled ear. He couldn’t seem to focus on it, no matter how hard he tried. The hand left his vision, and his head was repositioned back upright.

            Finally, both sets of hands retracted from his body. Numb and warm where he lay, voices echoed in and out of his reach. There were a few words and phrases he could catch between the two, but many were still drifting just out of his reach.

            “I told you it’s not just a sword!”

            “What is… He’s weak. Grab that...”

            His cheek pressed into the softness again. It felt far more comfortable for his head to be on its side. From what he could gather through the haze of the world around him, this was as comfortable as he was going to get. His comfort didn’t last long, as hands were soon lifting his torso up again. He tried to focus more, to understand what was happening around him.

            “Careful with it, Vireo. Don’t spill it, it’s hot.”

            “I’m coming as fast as I can, Cassin.”

            Once the hands ceased in their movement, he had been propped up uncomfortably against someone’s chest. From what he could tell, he was leaning back against this Cassin, limp as a ragdoll and his chin pressed to his chest. He didn’t have the energy to hold it up himself, but it seems it wouldn’t matter. One hand held him against her, wrapped firm and careful around his middle. The other hand came up to hold his head upright by his jaw, her grip just as firm and careful as it was against his stomach.

            “Do you really think this’ll help him, Cassin? He… Well, he’s not like us.”

            “Better we try than let him die. It helped you recover.”

            “But that was a cold.”

            “And an accidental gash to your leg. Hurry up, Vireo, I don’t think he’ll be awake much longer.”

            By now his eyelids had slid shut. He was tired, and he desperately needed to rest. Something hot came up to press against his lips, and he gagged against it. Cassin made soothing sounds into his good ear as her hand rubbed circles onto his stomach. It didn’t make him feel any better as the recoiled item returned to his lips and tilted. A liquid as salty as an ocean and as hot as the flames it came off of slid passed his lips. He tried to spit it out, to recoil at the taste of it, but only ended up choking on it. The bowl- it must have been a bowl he was holding to his lips- was taken away as he sputtered and choked, coughing up the liquid that had accidentally slid down the wrong pipe.

            “Careful Vireo! Not too much!”

            “I’m trying! Look at him, Cassin! A small sip to him is a mouthful to us!”

            “He can hardly breathe, Vireo! It doesn’t matter how big he is, he’s struggling!”

            The bowl came back once his weak coughing had subsided. He tried to pull his head away, to refuse the liquid, but Cassin held his jaw strong. The liquid poured in once more, this time in a far smaller amount. Unable to fight back, all he could do was let it drain from his mouth and down his throat. A warm, almost soothing heat slowly poured through his body. As much as he would have hated to admit it, it brought at least a little bit of comfort in this foreign place. Again, another sip of the liquid was given and once more he swallowed it. He was forced to swallow the liquid until the bowl was drawn away.

            Cassin, who had been muttering encouraging nonsense into his ear the entire time, finally removed herself from him and laid him back down where he was. The warmth had spread to every inch of his body, sweeping away any pain he had previously felt until he was nothing but numb. The two strangers began to talk to one another, shuffling to their feet and muttering back and forth. He struggled to stay awake, to listen to what the two were speaking of, but his understanding had faded away, soon followed by his consciousness.

 

* * *

 

            Empty. She couldn’t tell what frightened her more, the fact that this room was empty with Link nowhere to be found or the fact that the room was empty and Link was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t purely empty of course. Shattered bones from the remains of Stalfos defeated once a long time ago were scattered across the ground. Broken shards of pottery long since hurled at the faces of demons lay scattered in the mix. Torches burned diligently away on the walls from the day they had first been ignited. The room truly was not empty, but it was devoid of what she had been hoping and dreading to find. No Link, no enemies, no blood, nothing. It was empty.

            Fear spiked in her stomach once more as she continued to scan the room, as if looking in places she already had looked would yield her friend. This was the end of the temple, wasn’t it? This room had been sealed off since the day Link had left its depths two years ago. No monsters had seemed to have gotten into the room, and none of the ones that had been lurking in the temple outside had shown any interest in coming to this room. There was nothing else to search, nowhere left for the hero to explore. Where else could Link have gone?

            The spring. There was still one last place she had to explore before she could deem the temple Link-free. She rushed to the door on the far side of the room, the sound of her cork soles muffled from the blood rushing in her ears. The door wasted no time in sliding open for her and she hurried up the crumbling stairs. Thoughts raced through her mind just as quickly as her heart did. What would she do if he wasn’t here? Would he be okay? What if he’s already back at the settlement? Maybe she’s worrying too much. He is the hero after all. He had taken down the world’s greatest demon and lived to tell the tale. But something inside her continued to ring its warning bells. Something was definitely wrong, and whatever it was it had to have involved Link.

            She burst from the darkness of the staircase into the dappled light of the shaded spring. Her heart stopped in her throat just as sharply as she stopped in her tracks. Boots off and shoved to the side, pant legs rolled up past the knees, tunic and armor folded neatly behind him and back twisted just enough for him to look over his shoulder at her. “Zelda? What are you doing here?”

            Dear Goddesses above, he wasn’t any of the things she had feared he would be. He wasn’t hurt, he wasn’t bleeding, he wasn’t dead or dying. He was just sitting here, feet in the water and for once enjoying the afternoon. Her gut still twisted inside of her, anticipating some sort of danger or horrible event, but nothing appeared to be wrong. Link was safe in the spring, the settlement was safe thanks to all of the knights, and there wasn’t a threat, monster or otherwise, in sight. Why did her stomach continue to churn anxiously inside her?

            “Zelda? Is everything okay? Did something happen to the village?”

            Realizing she hadn’t responded to his initial question, she shook her head and began to wander her way towards him.

            “No, nothing’s wrong. You were just gone for a long time and I got worried.”

            “A long time? What time is it? I haven’t been here that long.”

            “It was a little past noon when your patrol of knights returned without you, and I left to find you around four.”

            “Oh.”

            His voice tapered off into silence as she sat down beside him. Whether it was caused by uncertainty around one another or their own personal problems, neither looked at one another. She was acutely aware of how unsure of each other they had become over the previous two years. She felt like she had been walking across eggshells around him, wanting desperately to know everything and anything he had to share about his adventures on the surface, but too unwilling to ask him a question that could cause him to shut himself away even more than he had already. Her eyes stole a quick glance in his direction. From the way he sat tense and eyes deliberately cast at the water his legs hung in, it was obvious that he too wished to do the same with her.

            Eyes dropping from his face, they instead began to wander to his exposed torso. Long ago there had been nothing marring the skin except for a little pear shaped birthmark on his shoulder blade. It had been clean and untouched by the perils of war. Now it was scarred, flesh raised and sunken in places, the skin gnarled where it had closed up over wounds he could not or did not have sewn shut. The scars were paler against the sun’s tan on his skin, showing up as the permanent souvenirs of countless vicious battles. He had refused to talk about most of them, and only gave away the tiniest details on the smaller ones. Zelda’s eyes sank again to his waist, where one scar was far larger and uglier than the rest. He refused to speak of what caused such a long and large scar, instead assuring everyone that it did not hurt and that it had healed just fine.

            Tired from her search and unable to look any longer, Zelda began to shift. In the corner of her eye she caught him glancing over at her while she tugged her boots off. Even as she rolled up her pant legs and dropped her own equipment to the side, he did not make an attempt to speak with her. Annoyance sparked in her, quickly followed by exhaustion. If she were honest with herself she wouldn’t blame her annoyance on his disinterest in conversation. She was no better, much preferring the safety of a comfortable silence instead of the hazards of conversation. Settling next to him, she slid her legs into the warm water.

            Silence continued to buzz around them, filled with birdsong, the gentle rush of a breeze and the sounds of the water ebbing and flowing and cascading all around them. The stone beneath them was still warm, the sun only just beginning to dip beyond the treetops. Shadows cast over the shining water rippled in its depths, and the abandoned statue of the Goddess continued to watch over the small area from the back of spring. The gentle silence of the world around them was just as comfortable as ever.

            “What’s kept you here for so long?”

            She could see Link look up at her from the corner of her eye, but her eyes remained focused on the water ebbing against her legs. She had grown tired of their silence. He seemed to rummage through his thoughts, almost as if he were debating on lying to her or telling her the truth. Hand carding through his hair, he managed to come to a decision with his words. “Nothing much. I guess I just wanted to reminisce a bit, but it was really nice outside, and I guess I got distracted. It’s a beautiful evening.”

            His voice had a ring of truth, but his words suggested that it was not the full truth. Once again they fell into silence, her only acknowledgment of his words being a halfhearted nod, but her gut began to twist once more. The feeling of dread welled up inside of her, causing her brows to knit and teeth to grind. He seemed to know what was making her inside churn.

            “You feel it too, don’t you…? A kind of anxiety that tears at your thoughts and makes your stomach sick?”

            Zelda was rather surprised. It was unlike him to speak of things that bothered him. “Something bad is going to happen, and it is going to happen very soon.”

            Link agreed with a sagely nod. “Something bad is brewing around us, and when it hits-”

            “It will hit us like a storm.”

            Link winced but nodded his agreement. Both cast their gazes further out into the spring. There was a pause, but he spoke with a near wistful tone.

            “Can you believe that three years ago, our only worries were making it into the Wing Ceremony?”

            A smile, soft and sad, upturned her lips. “Hard to imagine now. Remember when I would send my Loftwing to wake you up in the mornings?”

            He hummed softly, a smile beginning to grace his own face. “He would just sit there, head in the window and he’d scream until I fell out of bed.”

            “Sometimes I yearn for those days…”

            “I do too…”

            Silence returned to them as they fell into their own thoughts once more, disturbed only by the sounds of water splashing as she kicked her legs. Knowing that he too missed the carefree days in Skyloft before any of this mess had happen brought her a sliver of comfort. Perhaps their conversation hadn’t been the most fruitful of conversations, but at least they had been talking. There were days that they would not talk at all. It was baby steps to recovery from their journeys, but baby steps were better than none. They could save the in depth conversations for when they felt ready.

            Water splashed against her face, startling her out of her thoughts. Zelda looked up at Link, eyes wide and body tense. His hand was dripping from the splash, and his gentle smile had turned into a mischievous grin. Without thinking she swiped at the water, sending a cascade of it splashing against Link’s chest. Link fought back, throwing another wave in her direction. Well, if it’s a war he wants, then a war he shall get. She slid off the platform and into the water, her clothes quickly becoming soaked up to her waist. She made no effort to be careful and brushed the surface hard and fast. Link was left sputtering from the tide she had caused, but his smile held fast. He was quick to join her in the water, and even quicker to try and splash back. No doubt that by the time they decided to end the war, both would be soaked to the bone. They could worry about the cold trip home later, however. For now it was time they enjoyed themselves again, just like they had before on Skyloft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooo boy you made it. This chapter is a solid 4k instead of 3k so hopefully it doesn't feel long and boring. There are also a ton of meanings and reasons in Ghirahim's nightmare is the way it is. If y'all wanna maybe take a moment to look into that, go ahead. It might show y'all a little more about Ghirahim's past lol. Or just his subconscious fears and insecurities. I dunno fam, whatever you'd like. Hope y'all enjoyed it!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More about Ghirahim I guess. More about Vireo and Cassin too, kind of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a little but longer to work on, if only cause I was having a hard time with motivation. As a friend put it, I needed to get my spoons back from the cosmic dishwasher. Made me laugh tbh. Double pistols and a wink at them and all the other friends who are just there every day. Love y'all. Hope the chapter is interesting!

            Another dream, this one far calmer than the last. He knew it was a dream. The stone monuments, buildings, fountains, everything, it all stood in places he knew they had been demolished. The vendors were abandoned, goods left spread across the surfaces as if the vendors were just about to open. The roads were dusty and trampled, but not hardened from lack of use. The ground was still soft beneath his feet, and the dirt clung to the soles of his footwear, still damp from what he could only assume was previous rains. The grass shifted with a gentle breeze, and the colourful banners and flags fluttered softly overhead like birds stretching their wings. Houses still had toys on the porches, pitchforks leaned up against the beige walls and chimneys still puffing smoke from lit fires. Livestock pens were just as muddy, trodden and covered in waste as usual, but they were empty. The houses were no different. Not a soul to be seen in the windows, on the porches or balconies, nor wandering the streets and alleyways. The world continued to shift around him, but not a sound could be heard, not even from the leaves on trees as they rustled and danced in the wind.

            The world was silent, and it was deafening. Curious, he wandered the wide roads, weaving back and forth between the houses and shops, peering in through the windows and even daring to open doors to rummage around inside. He came back empty handed from every search. Though each house appeared to have residents living in it, there was no one to be found. It was as if everyone in this little ancient town had suddenly vanished into smoke. He was utterly alone in this ghost town.

            A voice, loud yet soft, commanding yet benign cut through the silence like a hot knife through butter.

            “This is all your fault.”

            Startled, he whipped around in the direction the voice had come from. There was nothing but some odd stones. He could have sworn that there had been someone standing there and talking. Curiosity drew him closer to the odd, scattered stones. Each of them were oblong and smooth, only a few edges looking as if they had been ruffled or bent the wrong way.

            “Don’t you know it’s rude to snoop through people’s belongings?”

            The voice rang again, behind him this time and the sound of a door slamming shut was quick to follow it. He wheeled around once more and rushed to the now closed door. He grabbed the handle and attempted to twist it. It didn’t budge, but he didn’t give up. He twisted and struggled with it, trying to open the door without much force. He soon grew bored as his frustration began to spike, and he drew away. He lifted a leg and twisted, delivering a sharp kick to the door. It yielded immediately, crunching in the centre and flying off of the hinges. He wasted no time storming into the house, eyes scouring the insides of the homely family room. Once again it was empty, with only a few more oblong stones lying in front of the fireplace. The fire had been extinguished. There was a clattering on the floor above him, and down the stairs fell two more of the oblong stones.

           His movements become less distinguishable as he rushed up the stairs, hand on the railing and stomach beginning to churn. There was something far too familiar about all of this. Something about this wasn’t right. He stopped at the top of the stairs, eyes narrowed and brow bones knitted together. There was nothing out of the ordinary. All three of the beds were neatly made, stuffies on the two smaller ones lined up before the pillows. The window above the master bed was opened. Becoming increasingly nervous he rushed over and looked out. As soon as he thrust his head out the window the voice returned louder than a blast.

            “You could never just behave, could you?”

            He hissed and pulled back fast, the back of his head hitting the low top of the window frame. Head pounding and ears ringing, he shook his head and backed up from the window. He stepped on something smooth and round, and his foot slid out from underneath him. Arms flying back to catch himself, he just barely avoided tumbling down the stairs. Perhaps this dream was not as calm as he first imagined it to be. Pushing himself up with aching arms he leapt down the stairs and lunged for the door. There was another ruckus upstairs, the sounds of stones grinding together and crashing to the floor, but this time he ignored it. He bolted out of the house and ran a few feet away from it. He didn’t dare look back until he was sure he was safely away from the house. Turning to face the house, his heart nearly caught in his throat at the sight.

            Flames had engulfed the house, licking up the walls and casting a cloud of smoke into the sky above. Within the smoke swirled a light, bright enough to see a vague shape but still too obscured to decipher what exactly it was. Shrouded in smoke it grew, brighter and brighter but still unable to be seen, until it finally began to move. The shrouded light shifted, almost seemingly like it was running, and soared across the sky. It turned sharply and dove, sprinting down through the sky and pulling up just enough so it’s legs touched the roofs of other buildings. Each building it touched was soon ignited with fires of their own. The new fires began to eat away at the world around him, swallowing the buildings and casting a hazy orange glow around the abandoned town. Still, there was not a sound to be heard.

            More shapes of light began to swirl in the smoke of the ever growing blaze, each of them resembling a different monster from the last. The first a mau, the second a lizalfos, third a helmasaurus, fourth a wolfos, fifth a bullbo, sixth a babusu, and lastly a furnix. Each of the new monstrous lights began to charge around the abandoned town, igniting anything they could touch, turning the skies black with smoke.

            Each of the beasts began dipping and diving around him, coming close enough to blast him with an unbearable wave of heat but never straying too close to ignite him. He turned on his heels, backing away where he could as they continued to soar past and torment him. The mau came close, closer than he would have liked, and bared it’s fangs at him, smoke falling to the earth and pooling around his legs. He backed up, fleeing from the light, heat and smoke. His back hit something hard and he wheeled around, taking only one step backwards towards the mau. This time his heart stopped in his throat.

            “Can’t you see what you’ve done?”

            Her voice was hard yet soft, tinged with what he could have mistaken as sorrow, but he knew better. Hidden behind the sacred cloth, he knew her eyes held millennia of frustration and rage within their depths. She outstretched her arms, making a sweeping gesture to the monsters of light, each of them having formed a circle around them.

            “Look at what you have done. Look at what you have created.”

            Filling with nervous tension, he let his gaze wander to each of the beasts surrounding them, trying his damnedest to not recoil from the overwhelming heat.

            “Tell me, Ghirahim. Tell me. Is this really what you want?”

            He didn’t reply, his voice lost in the heat and his eyes lost in the beasts and the destruction they had created.

            “How does it make you feel, to know that the blood of millions is on your hands?”

            Her words were beginning to anger him.

            “How does it make you feel to know that innocent people have died, because of you?”

            “Why should it matter to me?!”

            His sudden snap was met with a crescendo of sound. The sounds of fire roaring, the sounds of people screaming and shouting, the sounds of children wailing and monsters howling and buildings crumbling. He hissed and pressed his palms to his ears. The sounds were far too loud to be comfortable. They were almost painful, even when muffled by his hands over his ears. Despite all of the noise around them, her voice still cut through it all, gentle and clear.

            “You had a destiny far greater than this, Ghirahim.”

            “But it was never my destiny!”

            Once more the volume of the world increased. This time the noise was unbearable. It pounded through his skull, completely unhindered by the hands covering his ears. He doubled over and cried out- or at least he thought he did. He couldn’t hear himself over the roar of the dying world around them.

            Hands both cold and warm slid over his own, a pleasant contrast compared to the suffocating heat, and the sound slowly slipped away into silence. His ears were ringing, and his skull throbbing from a growing headache. Body tense and bristling, the hands didn’t leave his head until the heat faded.

            “You could have had a destiny far greater than the one you have chosen. If only you had just behaved.”

            His stomach clenched and churned. Her words were beginning to make him sick. He took a step back, hands still over his ears and shaking his head as if he were trying to clear it. She made no move to follow him or stop him. For that he was thankful. He did not want her close to him, be it in a dream or in reality. His body continued to grow weaker, stomach feeling more and more upset as the seconds ticked by.

            “This is all your fault.”

            “How is this all my fault?”

            “I wasn’t the one who dropped the bowl on the ground.”

            Voices he did not recognize cut through the air. His eyes snapped open and he gasped. His gasp had been too abrupt, and he choked, coughing and wheezing to reclaim the breath he had lost. His senses came back fast, hitting him full force with nausea and a pounding headache. Vision blurred and foggy at best, he let his eyes flutter shut. It was too much of a strain to keep them open at the moment.

             The sound of boots hurrying over to him rattled his sore head. He let out a weak groan and shifted. Out wriggled an arm from beneath the heavy blanket atop him, and he let the bandaged limb drape limply over his eyes. He was acutely aware of the other kneeling down beside him. What was his name, again? Vireo? Thankfully he hadn’t been so out of it to let their names slip his grasp. Vireo had made so much noise hurrying over to him that it was hard not to know where he was. His voice wasn’t any quieter than his steps, it seemed.

            “Is everything all right, sir? How are your wounds?”

            “Must you really be so loud…?”

            A smug satisfaction rose in his churning gut when his words were met with stunned silence. Though his voice was weak and coarse, he spoke again, just managing to keep it audible.

            “My wounds are fine. My head, however, is not. I’d appreciate it if you could keep the noise down until it passes.”

            “O-Of course, of course!”

            Thankfully Vireo had lowered his voice, though it was as husky and grating as it had been the first time he had heard it. So it hadn’t been delirium that made Vireo’s voice sound so rough. Seems he too had been cursed with a voice that ground the nerves like gravel underfoot.

            “So… How are you feeling?”

            Ghirahim gave the slightest shrug of his shoulders, far too weak and shaky to give much more.

            “As healthy as one can be with wounds like mine.”

            “Who are you, and what happened to you?”

            The voice of the other- Cassin, wasn’t it?- startled him, but he didn’t dare let it show. She was obviously far more subtle than he was when it came to her steps, though she was straight to the point in her questions. She may be more of nuisance than Vireo if she continued with such bluntness. Hopefully she would be easily deterred with the right information omitted. He cleared his sticky and dry throat before he spoke again.

            “Nothing but a light sparring match with an age old rival of mine, is all.”

            “From the severity of your wounds, sir, this was nowhere near what I’d consider a sparring match.”

            “Seems our cultures are different then. I assure you that this was no more than a simple trading of blows.”

            “What kind of place allows this to happen to people? Who are you?”

            Again with the probing questions. He shifted his arm down just enough so that he could look at her with a hardened glare. Thankfully his vision wasn’t as hazy, but it was still bright enough to cause discomfort.

            “A place with a culture far more different than your own, is that too difficult to comprehend?”

            “Yes! No self respecting individual would ever stoop so low as to nearly kill their rival!”

            “No self respecting individual would continue to berate another’s culture without understanding it first. There is nothing more infuriating than someone who cannot bring themselves to understand other cultures.”

            Vireo, who had been silent since Cassin had started questioning him, cut in before the conversation was allowed devolve into a fight.

            “Cassin, come on.”

            “What?”

            “Weren’t you going to get more broth?”

            “What about-”

            “I’ll stay with him. We should let him recover a bit more before we try having something more than short conversations with him.”

            Cassin, although appearing unsatisfied with her answers and rather frazzled by Ghirahim’s words, didn’t attempt to ask anything more. She stood and left the two of them be, retreating to the far side of the room. Content that she was no longer interrogating him, Ghirahim let his arm roll back into place over his eyes, ignoring Vireo as he sat next to him. The blessing of silence didn’t last as long as he would have liked it to next to the curious human.

            “You were dreaming, weren’t you?”

            He gave an annoyed hiss. “Is it such a surprise that I dream when I sleep?”

            “What were you dreaming about?”

            “Why does it matter?”

            “It was a nightmare, wasn’t it?”

            Ghirahim grit his teeth and remained silent. Vireo paused, letting the silence tell him all it could before he started again, this time in a whisper.

            “You were whimpering in your sleep. It wasn’t loud, but I could hear it. Did it have something to do with this rival of yours?”

            Once more, Ghirahim pulled his arm back just enough to deliver a scalding glower to Vireo. Vireo simply chuckled in response, a hand moving up to scratch mindlessly through his beard.

            “Look, I promise not to tell anyone about your whimpering, or your nightmare. I’m just worried about you.”

            Ghirahim couldn’t stop the disbelieving snort that left him. “In what world do humans actually care about someone they found unconscious on the ground?”

            “I don’t know who you are, or where you came from, but where I come from, we always help those in need, even if they are sword monsters who fall in the woods.”

            “I am a sword spirit, not a monster. I am far more sophisticated than any monster, and I am frankly offended that you would dare lump me in with them.”

            There was a brief pause after his words before Vireo found his voice once more.

            “Sword spirit then.”

            “And it would be wise to keep me a secret. I have no interest in explaining myself to others over and over again, nor do I have any interest in meeting others. I would just like to be on my way.”

            Before Vireo could give his verbal response, Cassin came wandering back, a rather large bowl in hand. There was a hesitant nod from Vireo, and Ghirahim took the affirmation rather quickly. Once more he rolled his arm back over his eyes, stretching out his hand before trying to relax. Cassin and Vireo had started talking with one another, but Ghirahim wasn’t listening. As far as he was concerned, he was now safe. Vireo appeared to be the type who would trust blindly and keep his word without hesitation. Cassin wasn’t a big threat to his safety either. She seemed to listen to Vireo. Hopefully if he told her to keep quiet, she would. That quickly eliminated any worries he had about other humans knowing of his existence, and in turn having a certain brat discover him, assuming he still lived.

            How long had it been exactly? His time spent trying to remember himself had not given him much of an idea of how long he had been out for the count. He could date his memories, but after being sent away in the last few minutes of what he could remember, everything stopped there. Vaguely he could recall waking in the forest where Vireo had no doubt found him, but that did not give him any context clues as to how long it could have been.

            With a spiking curiosity, Ghirahim pulled his arm off of his face and turned his eyes towards Vireo and Cassin. Both were staring at him expectantly. It took him aback to see them both staring at him as such, but he was quick to collect himself, brow knitted and lips tugging into a frown.

            “What? What is it, what do you want?”

            “Didn’t you hear us?”

            Cassin's tone ground against his nerves.

            “Obviously not. I was thinking.”

            It took all he had not to add in a snide remark about her seeming lack of thoughts. Looking more exasperated the longer she had to speak with him, she motioned to the bowl sitting in her lap.

            “Sit up and drink. It’ll help you feel better.”

            Eyes narrowing, first at her and then at the bowl she had, Ghirahim began to shift. He pushed himself up slowly, muscles in his arms and torso aching. The nausea that had just begun to settle came back full force. He shut his eyes and allowed a hiss to leave his lips. Damned body. It was far too corporeal and organic for his liking. Once he had pushed himself into a sitting position, Ghirahim carefully rest himself against the wall beside him. Even a task as simple as sitting was far too much for his body to handle like this. How frustrating.

            The bowl Cassin had was soon being shoved into his lap. It was warm and the steam from it’s contents warmed his cheeks. He opened his eyes slowly, still reeling from sickness, and stared into the reflection in the bowl. Grey skin, white hair, bags beneath the eyes and eyes a dark, warm brown. Despite his nausea, he looked down into the broth, staring at the man that stared back at him. So that was what he looked like. Relief and unease fought in his stomach. Why couldn’t he have remembered his own face earlier?

            “Did you need assistance?”

            Snapped out of his daze by her voice, Ghirahim looked up at the two sitting before him. Vireo looked genuinely concerned. Cassin only looked more and more annoyed. Setting his jaw, Ghirahim looked back down at the bowl and gripped it tight in both hands. He managed to bring it up to his lips, however shaky he was, and began to down the broth. It didn’t help much with his nausea, but he downed it as fast as he could before he thrust the empty bowl back towards Cassin.

            “I am not as weak or helpless as you both may think me to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope y'all enjoyed that chapter. It was very Ghirahim heavy lol. Next is probably going to be more Zelda and Link heavy. There might be a little bit of others too but mostly Zelda and Link shenanigans. I think maybe it's next chapter that things start picking up a bit??? The next one or the one after it. Depends on how much content I have in the next chapter. Hope y'all are lookin forwards to it!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link gets his ass kicked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S BACK LIKE TWO DAYS LATER????  
> IT'S MEEEEEE!!!
> 
> Once I got my spoons back from the cosmic dishwasher, I read the comment left on the last chapter and I was gifted a few extra spoons. So yeah, here we go. Another chapter. No doubt I'm going to start working on chapter seven directly after I post these shenanigans. Hopefully y'all enjoy this one!

            A rare cool day in the forest’s summer months was always an appreciated one. A day where the sun still shone but none too hotly. A day where clouds pass slowly overhead in the bright sky. A day where a gentle breeze ran through the trees, cooling the air and sweeping away the humidity. Birds and bugs sang off in the distance as stray monsters hid away. A day as fine as this was rarely wasted. Every citizen of the settlement worked away to their heart’s content. Crops were tended to, livestock cared for, vendors and stores bustling with people on their daily errands, and Loftwings gliding lazily with the gentle winds. Knights patrolled the village roads and edges, swords strapped neatly to their backs and shields hanging from their arms.

            The training field next to the Knight Academy was busier than normal. Knights and knights-in-training practiced their techniques. Some ran laps around the field, chatting with their friends and classmates. Some practised their archery, firing at targets nailed to trees and posts. Some were training their body, completing as many sets of pushups, situps and squats as they could before they grew too fatigued to continue. Others were practising sword drills and sparring with one another. The Knight Commander Eagus watched over each of the sparring matches, wandering back and forth between them and calling instructions to those who slacked on form or strength. For the most part, however, Eagus said little to one sparring match in particular.

            He ducked fast beneath the swing of his partner’s sword, readying his own and lunging to strike. His partner parried, knocking his wooden sword away before it struck her shoulder. He didn’t hesitate to spin on his dominant foot, using the momentum to bring his practise sword flying back towards his partner. She blocked his blow, twisting her sword around his in an attempt to dislodge it from his grasp. He was quick to pull straight back on his blade, freeing it from the lock she was trying put on his wrist. He took a sharp step forwards and thrust towards her middle. She leapt to the side, dodging the rounded tip of his practise sword. She spun on the ball of her foot, just as he had, and brought her sword swinging towards him. His reaction was swift as he leapt to the side and avoided her blade. As soon as he landed she was charging him, bringing her sword down from over her head. He was faster, dragging the flat end of his sword through the dirt and flicking a spray of it up into her face. With dirt in her eyes she faltered just enough for him to sidestep her blow He wasted no time in bringing the point of his blade up. He poked her lightly on the chin and she flinched, hesitantly lowering her sword. She had lost the sparring match.

            “That was a dirty trick.”

            “I know, but you need to be prepared. Monsters have very little honor, if any at all. They are not above using underhanded tricks to win their fights.”

            He lowered his own sword and pressed the tip into the ground. As an afterthought he offered her a handkerchief.

            “Sorry about throwing dirt at you.”

            “It’s okay. You’re a really good fighter.”

            “I’ve had a lot of practice, but it doesn’t hurt to keep training.”

            She took the fabric and carefully wiped the dirt out of her eyes before handing it back to him. He slipped the fabric back into one of the many pouches hanging from his belt. She gave him a quick bow, one he met with an awkward shrug and a hand scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

            “Thank you for the fight.”

            “Anything to help.”

            With that she was off to the sidelines, no doubt to find another partner to spar with. Another knight took her place, her own practise blade gripped tight in her left hand and a shield held in her right. She was an older knight, one who had graduated years before he had. Despite the tired lines on her face she smiled down at him.

            “You won’t try anything funny in a fight with me, will you Link?”

            He gave a nonchalant shrug. “Depends on which monster I pretend to fight like.”

            His words bought a hearty laugh from her throat and she sank down, hunched and ready to fight.

            “Sounds like a thriller of a battle then. Don’t hold back.”

            He gave a quick nod and raised his sword once more, pulling his own shield off of his back and gripping it tight. Eagus, who had been wandering between the fights stopped near them. Both stood still, waiting and watching the other as Eagus brought his hand up high in the air. Tense and filling with anticipation, Link lunged as soon as Eagus swung his arm down.

            He swung at her, bringing his sword down diagonally. She blocked it easily with her shield, knocking his blade away and stabbing at him herself. Link reacted just as quickly, bringing up his shield and blocking the wooden blade from hitting him in the gut. The force of her blow rattled through the shield and up his arm, but he paid it no mind. He swung his shield out and to the side, knocking her blade away from him in attempts to break her guard. Her guard was just as enforced as ever. She too spun with the momentum and slashed sharply at him. He jumped backwards, the sword just missing his torso. She didn’t stop there. She took another two steps towards him and swung horizontally again. Link raised his shield, her sword colliding strongly against it. Once more he shoved her blade away from him. He rushed forwards, shield in front of him. She raised her own and they smashed against one another. Both dug in their heels and pushed, each of them trying to knock the other off their balance.

            By now some of the other sparring matches had stopped what they were doing to watch them. Even Eagus ceased his patrolling to spectate their fight. Sweat was starting to form on his brow, and he could tell she was exerting the same effort if the way her brow glistened was any indication. It was a stalemate between them, neither willing to let up in fear of losing balance, and neither wanting to stop until the other lost their balance. Thinking as quickly as he could, Link pushed even harder, bracing himself on one leg and using the other to try and stomp on her foot. She saw his move and side stepped out of his way, releasing the force holding him back. He didn’t dare let his sudden forwards momentum get to him. Link used the force he had to dive and roll forwards. He could hear her giving chase behind him and he spun on one knee, swinging his blade around to slash at her legs. She skid to a stop just in time, allowing herself the mere second before he hit her to jump back out of his reach. Effectively buying himself the time, Link pushed himself up to his feet. Back on even ground with her, he rushed her once again, sword raised above his head. She brought her shield up instinctively to block it. He used her instincts against her, swinging his blade down and around to slash horizontally at her. Realizing her own mistake she jumped back as fast as she could, her navy tunic catching on the tip of his blade.

            Something about the action dazed him. Something about it felt far too familiar, too sinister for comfort. She lunged at him again, sword held low and against the opposite flank. Eyes on her sword, he just barely managed to dodge the terrifying swing she dealt. The end of her own sword caught against his tunic, just as his had caught against hers, and he took a sharp breath in. He remembered where he had seen these moves before. He remembered the feeling of steel carving through flesh, the sudden heat and cold of blood falling out of a new wound the length of his own blade. Through the midst of his memories Link saw she was lunging once more with the same move, this time from the opposite direction. Scrambling to regain control of himself, he leapt backwards as fast as he could.

            Pain struck through his body as fast and hard as her sword had, and his vision went white. He fell to the ground, his breath escaping him once he hit the earth. His hand instinctively came up to touch the side of his head. Link hadn’t heard the collective gasp that came from the crowd, nor did he hear the startled cry of the knight he had been sparring with. Slowly but surely his vision returned to him, and the sharp pain he had felt dulled down to an irritated ache.

            “Dear Hylia, Link, are you all right?! I’m so sorry!”

            Still dizzy and catching his breath, he looked up at his sparring partner. Her face had turned ashen, and she wore a terrified expression. Vaguely he noticed the spectators coming closer to see if he was okay. Zelda was among them. Rubbing the now sore and hurting side of his head, he nodded.

            “Uh… Yeah, yeah I’m okay, I’m good. We can keep practising, sorry. I-” Eagus cut in sharply.

            “Not after a hit like that, son. You should sit down for a bit.”

            Kneeling down beside the two of them, Eagus pulled Link’s hand away from his head to inspect the wound. Brows furrowing, Link tried to decline.

            “Look, I was just distracted. I’ll be okay. Let’s keep going. It isn’t the worst hit I’ve taken.”

            “But it is a hit none the less, and it should be properly taken care of.”

            “But… I-I’m not bleeding or anything. I feel fine.”

            A pair of hands, gentle and careful, wound under his arms and pulled him up to his feet. Glancing over his shoulder, he was met with the concerned face of Zelda.

            “Come sit down, Link. A lot of head injuries feel okay at first.”

            Gritting his teeth, he let out a frustrated sigh and nodded. Eagus gave him a quick pat on the shoulder before he turned back to the crowd and began shooing them away. He let Zelda guide him over to a nearby bench on the field, one sitting just beneath the shade of a tree. Silently he sat down, and Zelda sat beside him, still holding onto one of his hands. That’s odd, he doesn’t remember dropping his practise sword and shield. Looking around, he spotted Eagus holding both of the items. He was acting as referee for a new sparring match, one between the knight who had accidentally hit him and another older knight in crimson. Link’s eyes lingered on the sword and shield, free hand fidgeting absentmindedly. Zelda’s grip tightened on his hand for a moment before releasing.

            “Link, are you going to be okay?”

            Eyes still plastered to his weapons, Link managed a nod.

            “My head is fine. But something… Something is wrong.”

            “Is it the same feeling from yesterday? At the spring?”

            “Yes. Something isn’t right in the world. Something big. Something we can’t control.”

            “What is it you’re thinking about?”

            Link remained silent, eyes still as he stared at his shield. So many emotions began to swirl in his stomach. Fear, anger, paranoia, anxiety, anticipation, dread. Something was going to come back and haunt them from their journey, that much he knew. The only question was that if he was willing to risk losing his friend over it. He didn’t wish to go on another journey. He didn’t want to get Zelda, or Groose, or anyone involved with it. It was something that would be coming after him and him alone. If he could leave everyone out of it, he would. Concerned with his silence, Zelda spoke again.

            “Link? What are you thinking about?”

            “Maybe I’m just,” He trailed off, scratching at his chin in thought. “Maybe it’s nothing. I’m still recovering from my travels. We both are. Maybe we’re just jumpy over nothing…”

            “You can tell me if something is troubling you. I won’t be angry over it, Link. I just want to help.”

            All he could do for his response was a simple shake of his head. He didn’t want to get her involved with it. This was something he wanted to do on his own.

            Any worry he had of her trying to force an answer from him faded when she pulled him closer. Though he wasn’t usually one for displays of affection, he could not deny that a hug was something he wanted and needed at the given time. Her hug only reinforced his determination. To have a friend so willing to understand with so little information given… He was not about to risk her safety by getting her involved. Shaking his head once more, he let himself sink into her embrace. This was something that he would do on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruh ya made it! Hope ya liked it! Sorry if this chapter is shorter than the previous few, and sorry if it feels mostly like a filler chapter. I swear Link getting smashed in the face with a sword will play some kind of role in the very near future. But don't worry my dudes. Defs does not have a concussion. He's a lucky sunnavabitch.
> 
> Hope y'all continue to like the story, and I hope y'all continue to comment. I'll be honest, I dunno if it's just one person commenting on the last few chapters or if it's multiple people, but every time I get a new comment, I get a couple more spoons from the cosmic dishwasher lol. I really appreciate them, and it makes me happy to see that at least someone is as invested in this as me.
> 
> Thanks for reading, thanks for commenting, and thanks for just bein all around cool dudes. ((And to you, my one guest, I too really like Vireo and feel meh about Cassin. Didn't really like either of em at first but they've grown on me. They gonna play a big roll later, just you wait and see my dude B) ))


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's so many ocs at this point that I should probably update the tags on my fic to include ocs too lol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one took longer than the last one, if only because I couldn't figure the fuck out how to write these assholes and if I should have included more. I did not include more, so it's a quickie, but it is packed with info so I mean. If you're into theories and shit, here's just an info dump for y'all to pick apart and put back together into theories lol. Hopefully I wrote em nicely, cause they gave me a tiny case of writer's block lol.

* * *

* * *

            “There are still no signs of him.”

            “What of this ash pit then? What else could have caused this?”

            “It pains me that you still do not believe in a damned thunderstorm, Nilr.”

            “Shut your trap! I believe in thunderstorms! I just can’t believe such destruction to be the results of a mere burst of lightning!”

            “I think you are forgetting, Nilr, the fact that leviathans have been felled by what you call a ‘mere burst of lightning’.”

            “That was not done by natural causes! A natural cause is a thunderstorm that dragons do not kick up! Those leviathans were killed by a damned dragon! This ash pit is what the guts of those leviathans looked like when they fell smouldering to the earth! Are you forgetting that, Sol?”

            “I do not forget what happened, Nilr. But I highly doubt that this destruction was caused by Krl’desh. He is not capable of this brand of destruction.”

            “He literally serves the Destruction Class. What, do you mean to say that he has learned nothing after all these years?”

            “What I am saying, Nilr, is that he is not capable of casting any form of lightning upon the land. Now please, for the love of the silence around us, would you both just shut your traps?”

            “I wasn’t picking fights.”

            “You damn well are now, boy. Both of you shut up and keep looking. Krl’desh is still missing.”

            The figure hidden beneath a feathered cloak and crow mask snorted before skittering fleet-footed farther into the charred clearing. Six acres of forest sat dead and silent at their feet, ashes still floating as the breeze pushed through the area. The smell of smoke still soured the air, burning at his nose. Around the burnt clearing in the untouched greens of the forest were devoid of life as well. Not a single bird sang, nor did any kind of fauna make its presence known. Fires were terrifying, sure, but he had thought that life would have returned to scavenge the area by now. Seems he had overestimated the courage of wildlife.

            He watched his crow masked companion skitter out and start scratching through the ashes and branches, no doubt digging for any signs of Krl’desh, while he continued balancing himself on a fallen tree trunk. His other travelling companion was far more slothful, wandering lazily into the clearing and kicking up some ashes as he went. The ashes stuck to his tattered cloak, and the man sighed through his scarf. Eyes as blue as the sky hid beneath the shadows of his cloak. He was the only one who had refused to wear a mask, instead preferring a blue scarf wrapped around his neck and face. He himself had believed it a risky decision. A scarf was easier to turn against the wearer than a mask was.

            He turned his gaze towards the other. She was still where she had been earlier, scratching through ash and bark and wood. She shook herself out, ashes slipping from her cloak, and he itched to do the same. Carefully he stepped off the fallen trunk and into the ashes. They were cold and lifeless beneath his feet. Once he was off, he too shook off his cloak and mask. Ash fell from him, but it did not sate the itch. He pushed a hand just underneath his mask to scratch at his chin. Soot came away on the tips of his gloved fingers and he scowled. He would need to have a bath after the sun sets.

            Trying to forget the stuffy itchiness, he spoke to his masked companion.

            “Nilr. Has he left any tracks in the area?”

            Nilr shook her head. She lifted a foot and stomped down onto another fallen branch, crushing it beneath her foot and sifting through the debris.

            “Nothing here has any sign, residual or otherwise, that he has even passed through the area. No iron, no blood, not even traces of magic. He was not the one to ignite these woods.”

            Despite her tendencies to crush, smash, and snap every inanimate object in her path, Nilr was arguably one of their better trackers. She of all those he could have chosen to accompany him had senses he knew he could trust. With a sigh he nodded, and scratched once more at his face beneath his mask.

            “Then we should move on. There is still a vast area of the Floodwater Woods that he could be lingering in. It is not unlike him to find a new base camp each day.”

            The one beneath the scarf scoffed, and he swivelled his head to look at him.

            “What if he doesn’t want to be found, huh? It has been years since he has shown his face. Who is to say he isn’t dead?”

            His mask may have been silent and expressionless, but beneath it he could feel his gut beginning to bubble with anger. This one, one of Krl’desh’s adopted subordinates, was one who’s opinions he did not trust.

            “Ralnor is getting impatient, and he’s becoming pushy. We can’t keep searching forever. Sooner or later, one of his pushes will convince the rest of the realm that he’s dead. One of these days the heir will have to choose someone else, or take her final Rite of Passage. If it were me, Sol, I’d give up and go home. You should reclaim your place as Chief. It would be good for all of us.”

            “And then what shall I do, hm? After all this time spent searching, after all this effort put into finding my charge, do you really think that reclaiming the position will do us any good? Do you think that will be a good mark to put on our name?”

            Sol could see that he had opened his mouth to respond, but he cut him off fast, allowing his growing anger to get the better of him.

            “And what would Mesriam say? After I promised on my hide that we would find Krl’desh, do you think she would take kindly to us returning empty handed? And I cannot imagine the rest of the Chiefs would be too happy to see that after all this work we had put into finding him that we show up, Krl’desh nowhere to be seen, and finding out that I am retaking my position as Chief. Do you really, truthfully think that simply giving up is our best option at this point?”

            A rush of satisfaction blazed through his bones at the sight of the other shrinking back in his skin. Though the way he seemed to find looking at the ashes more interesting only irritated him more.

            “N-No, Sol. All I’m saying is that we are running out of time. Something’s got to give.”

            “Then we will give all that we can finding him, yes? Loh, the rest of your kind has already sent us the information that Krl’desh is not in the Desert Wastes, and Vor’iin has confirmed that Hell’s Breach has not seen any traces of him. Krl’desh will not be announced as dead unless we find his broken corpse within these woods.”

            “B-but, what about Ralnor, a-and the rest of the other Chiefs? I can’t imagine it is only he who grows impatient waiting to hear who is announced as the stand in. I am certain that by now everyone just assumes he is dead.”

_“Then we will prove them wrong!”_

            The sudden roar startled him, causing Loh to stagger back a few steps. He had always been so good at getting on his nerves. Even when he was new to them he would continuously find ways to rub him the wrong way. Sol continued to snarl at him, his anger bubbling over.

            “I will not sit idly and watch as some power-hungry megalomaniac is appointed as his stand in! I refuse to let Mesriam be hurt in any unforeseen consequences of picking said stand in or the consequences from rushing her into her final Rite! It is best for all of us that we find Krl’desh and return him to power before Ralnor seizes it! You may have forgotten where your origins and loyalties lie, Loh, but I assure you that the rest of us have not! If you are too damned slothful to help us find him, then feel free to return home in exile!”

            “Y-You wouldn’t…”

            There was nothing sweeter than hearing weakness and submission in Loh’s voice. It soothed his anger, but not enough to keep bitterness from creeping into his voice.

            “Call it my first act of reclaiming my position as Chief. Do I make myself clear?”

            With his words met with a timid nod, Sol returned his gaze out towards the distant trees and listened as Loh shuffled away, no doubt to give him his space. A smart move on his part. Any more disobedience or disloyalty and Sol would have used the man’s scarf to strangle him himself. Nilr took cautious steps to stand beside him, but he ignored her for the time being. Instead he raised one leg and shook off his foot. He was not fond of the feeling of cold ashes between his toes. Nilr spoke to him, and he turned his head towards her. Her voice was no louder than a breezy whisper, but her words make his hair stand like a jolt of static.

            “You know he does have logic in his words.”

            “This is not something I want to discuss, Nilr.”

            “Well this is something that you _must_ discuss. You know that Krl’desh’s chances of being alive still are slim, and they continue to dwindle by the second.”

            “I am well aware that his previous tasks were life threatening. You do not need to remind me.”

            “It has been years, Sol. I realize that he is a slow healer, and infection does not take root easily in him, but even a man such as he can succumb to his wounds in a matter of months.”

            Her words made his gut clench and he looked away, eyes instead following a particularly large flake of ash as it danced through the breeze. He would rather not think of Krl’desh as being dead, let alone any possibility that he could still be hurt somewhere. Memories of dealing with him, training him, teaching him all he knew flashed in the front of his mind. He quickly pushed those memories down, unwilling to reminisce until he found him.

            “Then what do you suggest, oh Talented Advisor, that we do should we find Krl’desh dead, or do not find him at all?”

            “We stall, oh Great General. Mesriam is so very close to her final Rite of Passage, and as soon as she completes it, we will no longer have need of Krl’desh.”

            “There will always be a need for Krl’desh!” He spat, his anger returning full force. Nilr simply rolled her eyes and motioned for him to calm. Watching her didn’t make him feel any calmer.

            “Hush your tone, Sol. We are all well aware that there is no need for him after the heir rises to power, and whatever need you have constructed in your mind is only your attachment to Krl’desh as your apprentice. The rest of the realm does not need him like we do.”

            “I will not stop in my search for him, Nilr.”

            “And I am not saying that we should stop searching for him. All I am saying is that we must stall. Continue to tell the realm that we have found a recent trail, tell them that we are so close to finding him. Keep them on their toes. And once Mesriam has claimed her spot as queen, we are no longer required to give updates. The realm will have a leader, and you know better than the rest of the Chiefs that Mesriam will not allow us to stop our search until Krl’desh is found, be it alive or dead.”

            Her words made sense. There was logic in them that he could not deny. But whatever anger she was soothing gave rise to concern instead.

            “Ralnor is far too intelligent for that. He will continue his campaign, whether we find Krl’desh or not.”

            “And that is why we have Old Shuck.” Behind her mask, he could see the gleam of excitement and faith in her crimson eyes. She continued to speak, the glimmer of hope becoming infectious.

            “You know Ralnor fears the fleabag. He can be easily manipulated into silence, should he see Old Shuck.”

            “For wherever Old Shuck is-”

            “The Chief is not far behind. See Sol? We have nothing to worry about. All we need to do is stall for a few weeks more.”

            “And what shall happen should Ralnor discover that it is I who is in control of Old Shuck and not Krl’desh? You know there are consequences to such actions.”

            Her snort and dismissive hand wave did not sit well with him.

            “Then he can wait for the supposed stand-in to be announced. He won’t speak up in the presence of the fleabag or whoever controls him, and it will take weeks of deciding to name a stand in. By that time, Mesriam will be queen, any consequences of you commanding Old Shuck in Krl’desh’s place will be pardoned, and we will have nothing to concern ourselves with.”

            It was now that Sol fell silent, gaze facing the greener areas of the forest as Loh continued to dig about in the ash. Nilr watched them, turning her head between Sol and Loh. She had a good point. Ever since Mesriam had been born she had a close relationship with Krl’desh. If it meant getting Krl’desh back and keeping a creep like Ralnor out of power, he had no doubts that Mesriam would excuse him for using Old Shuck without being the Chief. Mesriam was on their side, and having connections in higher places were always beneficial. There were things he was still concerned about, tiny slits in Nilr’s plans that didn’t quite sit right, but for the most part it had soothed his anger and calmed his restlessness. It was a decent plan, and surely it could be carried out without a single problem in its wake.

            “There is nothing left to search for in this area, Sol. If Krl’desh has been through here, he has not left us anything of use.” Nilr reminded him.

            Silence fell once more, so thick that it could suffocate. Sol shook himself out again, cleaning himself of ash and soot once more while Nilr remained silent. By now Loh had ventured closer, his own searching ended in favour of hearing Sol’s decision. Heaving a sigh after a moment of hesitation, Sol began to stalk towards the unsearched greenery.

            “Come you two. It is time we moved deeper into the Floodwater Woods.”

           His words were met with soft and muffled obedience, and Nilr and Loh fell into step behind him. He begged every star in the sky that Nilr’s plan would be successful as all three disappeared into the forest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. There we go. It's Sol, Nilr, and Loh. A trio of new OCs, littered with names of other OCs who have yet to be introduced lol. I guess you can call it a sneak peek into further chapters??? Or at least, you know the names of a couple of assholes who will probably/maybe/most likely show up in later chapters. Maybe in like chapters....... 10? 13? 15? I don't know. We still got some other stuff to cover until then, so we'll see lol. Hope y'all are excited to meet Mesriam, Old Shuck, Ralnor, Loh's people, and Vor'iin! I'm actually really excited to start introducing them into the story.
> 
> Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link sees some shit, some shit sees Link, and Ghirahim enjoys another bowl of liquid salt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a long time coming. At least it wasn't another nine month wait, right? I'll be honest, school and work has been kicking my ass and it's really been killing any desire to write. But here we go! Two or three months in the making and I finally got chapter eight down! I am so deliciously close to where shit really starts to pick up my dudes. It's only like, two or three chapters away I think. I am so excited for it and I hope y'all are too!

            Areas like these always gave him the chills. It had never bothered him before, back when the world was so big and new and exciting. He had been so fascinated by everything in this new and strange world. Why did a once lush and fertile area turn to sands and heat? How did this mountain grow to be so tall, and why does it erupt? Why did the land become colder and tinged with frost and snow once a year, but then returned to its warm and sunny state afterward? All the leaves would turn a rainbow of colours before falling to the earth, and every year it grew back. The world was so incredibly fascinating, filled with wonder and mystery and adventure. He had loved every inch of the world and all of its wonders back then. But now it was areas like these that made him uneasy.

 

            Every time a storm had blown through the area and lightning had struck the earth, a fire had started and ended. In its wake it left swathes of death. Trees burnt down to charcoal and soot, a thick layer of ash covering the earth, and silence. Eerie, spine tingling silence. The incredible destructive force the world had was terrifying, and the remains it left behind even more so.

 

            Link had arrived to the charred forest not long ago with a patrol of other knights. They had known of the destruction not long after the storm had passed, but their first priority was to the citizens of their village. They had to make sure everyone was safe, and not a single stray monster lurked in the area looking for an easy meal. It was only now that they had the chance to scope out the destruction. As per usual, it left nothing alive. Dead trees, dead plants, and the already picked over carcass of some unlucky animal that did not make it. As an attempt to keep their forest home healthy and alive, they sent out knights to the destroyed areas to replant trees, clear out any hindering debris, and scatter greenery to help regrow the lost sections of forest.

 

            Many of the knights were busy lifting a tree trunk, dragging it across the clearing and towards their home. It would be a slow process, but charcoal was a valuable material. If they could scavenge it rather than make it, they would. A few other knights, himself included, were clearing away small patches of ash and digging into the earth beneath it. He would have liked to help the larger team of knights drag the tree trunks away, but after the hit to his head, Eagus had strictly forbidden him from any task that could cause him any unforeseen problems until they were sure that any possibility of concussions were healed.

 

            Zelda knelt a few feet away from him, digging her own hole and planting a mesh covered bundle. The seeds in the bundle would be safe from birds who could dig and any smaller creatures looking for an easy snack.

 

            Link glanced over to her as she pushed dirt over the bundle and pat it down before he looked back down to his. He was still digging a suitable hole. Maybe it was the head injury or his own lack of gardening skills, but the other knights, Zelda included, were much more efficient at planting. He continued to dig his hole, trying to make it as round and smooth as he could before he dropped a bundle of seeds into it. He too pushed dirt over the bundle and pat it down. The small flask on his hip was opened and he spilled some water over the bundle, hopefully kickstarting its growth.

 

            Zelda had already moved on to another part of the wastes to dig another hole, and Link was determined to at least plant as many as she was. He pushed himself to his feet, taking a moment to brush his hands and knees clean of ash before he wandered over to another section. Once he was satisfied with an untouched section of the ashes, Link knelt down again to repeat the process. Brush away ashes, dig a small hole, drop in a bundle, bury it, and water it. It was a boring, menial task. Link glanced up at the knights slowly hauling away a trunk and sighed to himself. What he wouldn’t give to join them. At least they could leave this area. It didn’t matter how many knights he had around him, the ashen wastes were giving him a bad feeling.

 

            “How are you doing, Link?”

 

            Zelda’s voice knocked him out of his daze, and he looked over towards her. She was looking up at him, hands unconsciously digging as she gave him a smile. He must have been staring at the others. He gave a little shrug and looked back down to his own hole. He didn’t need to look back up at her to know her smile had faded and her brows had furrowed. He knew his weak willed answer would worry her, but he assured himself there was nothing for her to worry over. He was fine, despite his feelings of dread, and he certainly felt fine as far as he was concerned. It was only a patchy bruise on his temple. He’d be fine.

 

            Once more he stood up and brushed himself off, and moved to another spot in the untouched section. Link stepped on a branch and it cracked beneath his foot. The sound and feeling startled him and he jolted, lifting his foot up just enough to inspect the branch. It was thin and scraggly, and a large part of it had already been crushed. The markings around the break were bizarre. They didn’t appear to be any local fauna that he was familiar with. A little further in front of the marking sat a few more, these ones more easily recognizable as footprints. They were strange tracks, large and bird-like, but not quite as big as a Loftwing’s. He was quick to dismiss it as a juvenile Furnix’s tracks. They were prone to wandering and exploring with their overprotective mothers, and it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for a juvenile to wander a ways away from its mother. But as the tracks continued out further, his gut began to twist. Another set of tracks met up with the Furnix’s, one far more unknown.

 

            Hesitance gripping his body, Link managed to approach the tracks. By now his actions had caught the attention of the others. No doubt they were curious about what was making the Hero of the Skies so nervous. The new set of tracks were huge, far larger than any Wolfos or Lizalfos markings he had seen. Short paw pads with longer toes, and in front of each toe was a puncture in the ash. Claw marks, no doubt. Unease began to gnaw inside of his gut. What kind of monster could have made such prints? Wolfos had claws, sure, but they did not enter the earth like these ones did. They sat long and flat against the ground, not unlike the paw prints of regular wolves. These claws made a quick entry into the earth and were removed just as quickly, leaving only a few thick slits.

 

            Someone was talking to him, but he couldn’t hear them over the blood rushing in his ears. His eyes followed the new and foreign tracks towards the untouched forests. It would not have bothered him that much, had the paw prints not been heading towards the village. Without warning he bolted, forgetting all about the ashes and debris and instead running headlong into the trees. Someone, perhaps it was Zelda, called out in alarm to him, but he ignored it. The tracks quickly went from ashy to muddy, sticky imprints in the still soft earth. Link continued to dash after the tracks, following the weaving pattern through the trees.

 

            In one quick movement his blade had been drawn and he gripped his shield tight. He didn’t know what made these tracks, and that no doubt meant that it was a new monster, one he had not faced before. He could vaguely hear others running behind him, hot on his trail, but he kept ignoring them. If he could get to the monster first, he could be the one to deal with it, and no one else would have to get hurt. Whatever this beast was, he was sure that he could handle it on his own.

 

            The tracks, paw prints and Furnix alike, came to a sudden halt, and he skid to a stop not far from where they had ended. He didn’t realize how fast he had been running. He was heaving for breath and sweat was beginning to form on his brow. Sword and shield held at the ready, Link looked all around the area the tracks had stopped in. In the bright and sunny woods, nothing but startled fauna and birds could be seen fleeing the area. None of them were big enough or the right build for either the Furnix tracks or the paw prints. By now the other knights had caught up to him, each of them heaving and panting themselves. Once more Link ignored them in favour of searching.

 

            He wandered the area, circling around larger trees and checking around bushes. There was nothing in sight. All that remained were the few muddy tracks beneath the feet of his friends. Only now in his frantic state did he register who exactly it had been following him. Zelda stood just as ready as he did, on edge and worry written all over her face as she stared at him. Behind her stood an older knight in a deep navy tunic. Cassin, if he vaguely recalled, wasn’t the greatest at fighting, but she was a strong supporter and did wonders for quick tricks and treating wounds on the battlefield. The other was another older knight, a year younger than Cassin in stunning red. He couldn’t recall his name, but the dark haired knight was known for his strength in combat. Both had their backs to him, instead looking around the clearing with their own weapons ready.

 

            He saw Zelda open her mouth, no doubt to ask him what was wrong, but a sharp rustling in a tree above them caught their attention. All three of them looked up to the tree sharply, and Link made haste in standing next to them. With the sun shining down into the leaves, it was difficult to get a clear focus on anything. Anticipation welled up in his gut, every part of him screaming to fight, to protect his friends and the village. Whatever monster was hiding deep in the canopy of the tree could not hide there forever. Whatever it was, he would kill it.

 

            Leaves rustled violently and out from the canopy shot a Crowned Pigeon, flapping wildly and gliding out of sight away from the knights. Cassin, Zelda, and the other knight settled. Link only felt more and more anxious. Static burnt through his body, all muscles tensing and gripping his blade so tight his arm was quivering. His eyes never left the spot the pigeon had fled over the treetops, mind blank from whatever static had his body gripped so tight.

 

            A touch to his shoulder startled him, dispelling the static that gripped his body. He looked over, hesitant and shaking. Zelda’s concerned expression greeted him, and he let his sword drop.

 

            “Link, are you all right?”

 

            “I…” He faltered, eyes dropping from her face. He wasn’t feeling so good anymore. His free hand came up to rub at his eyes, and he raised his head to look back at the tracks he had followed. All he could see were their footprints, not an oddly shaped track in sight. He could have sworn he saw paw prints. He could have sworn he saw the tracks of an unnamed monster and a Furnix. Thinking about it now, however, he couldn’t recover any kind of reason why a Furnix would walk with a monster. Furnix were airborne, and he had rarely seen one on the ground to roost, let alone to walk somewhere. There hadn’t been a struggle between the two as far as the tracks told, and as far as he could tell, the paw prints might have been a trick of the light. Perhaps it had been no more than a figment of his own imagination. Realizing he had taken too long to respond, Link turned back to the waiting knights. Something about their concerned expressions bothered him.

 

            “I’m okay. I just, thought I saw something.”

 

            “Come on Link, maybe you should rest.”

 

            As much as he wanted to refuse the worried tones in Zelda’s voice, he pushed away his own stubbornness and nodded. Maybe he should rest. He had felt fine coming out here with the rest of the knights. He could have sworn that he had seen those tracks, and that the others had seen them too. Whatever spark of hope he had growing in his gut died when he looked for confirmation in the other’s expressions that they too had seen the tracks. They hadn’t seen them.

 

            Zelda stooped and scooped up the blade he had dropped to the earth before offering the glittering thing back to him. He took it hesitantly, casting his eyes back into the trees that he had looked into earlier. There was a flash of amber in the dancing leaves, but it was gone so fast that he could have mistook it for existing all together. He really must be seeing things if he saw amber sitting in the trees. Before any of the other knights could comment on his wide eyed staring Link sheathed his sword and returned his shield to his back. No point in searching longer if he was the only one seeing these things.

 

            Grateful for Zelda’s presence, he allowed her to lead him back to the village, her arm hooking around his and her gentle hands offering a soothing support. Though even as they left and the other two knights dispersed, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. It felt as though there had been numerous pairs of eyes, each of them burning holes into his body as they walked. With a tired sigh, Link slumped and let his head rest on Zelda’s shoulder, enjoying the comfortable silence they shared, no matter how much the trees around them seemed to rustle.

  
  
  


* * *

* * *

 

  
  
  


            Pain burst through his legs, quickly followed by waves of nausea and dizziness. Standing heavily on his left leg, he attempted to lift his right off the ground entirely and support himself on one leg and the wall. The world dipped and spun around him as he braced himself against the wall. Despite his best efforts, the growing pain, nausea, and intensifying vertigo fought him until his vision blurred and his stomach heaved. He collapsed onto the floor, arms dropping to his sides like the limp limbs of a ragdoll and right leg crashing to the ground as his left bent and folded beneath him. As he hit the ground, a second, far more angry burst of pain flashed up through his right leg and into the rest of his body. Heart fluttering and chest tightening, he sat where he had fallen, side slumped up against the wall and chin to his chest. Faintly amongst the nausea, racing heartbeats, and an insatiable pain, anger and shame burned up from his gut. He can’t stand it. He can’t stand feeling so weak, so useless, so utterly and bitterly helpless.

 

            It had been early in the morning when Vireo and Cassin had left for their own duties, the sun only having just barely begun to rise. Seeing him alive and awake for longer than thirty minutes must have soothed any fears of him dying while they were out, for they left him sitting in their bland and empty house for hours on end. He had seen the sun rise just as they had left, and it was now that the sun was beginning to dip down behind the trees on the horizon did he grow tired of waiting. Bitter and frustrated with nothing to do meant that he himself would find something to do.

 

            A glance around the room he was situated in left him with very few options. There was a lit stone hearth in the center of the room, a cedar table and chairs on the far side of the hearth. To his left lay some chairs and a couch, no doubt meant for friends and family, and to his right lay barrels upon barrels of what he could assume was food on either side of a door. Around him were shelves overflowing with pictures and paintings and books and chests no doubt filled to the brim with personal belongings and treasures. All in all the room was bland and boring, painted the same lifeless honeys and bronzes. Sure, Vireo and Cassin had left him the strict instructions of staying put and resting, and sure, they did have a point in their instructions, but he’d be damned before he willingly sat around on the ground like a useless lump of metal.

 

            Barely having the energy to move himself around, Ghirahim brought a shaking hand to his chest, his palm resting over the scratchy gauze wrapping his torso. Holding his hand there didn’t slow his weakened and speeding heart, and instead brought him twinges of a duller pain. The pain only irritated his anger more, fueling it to the point where it boiled beneath his skin. He hated sitting around doing absolutely nothing, but he hadn’t much a choice. His body was still too weak, weak enough to give out on him just as he was attempting to stand. If he could stand, then he could walk, and if he could walk, then he could run, and jump, and leap, and use his magic. But he can’t. Oh, if only he could stand!

 

            Earthen eyes flickered towards his right leg. Though distracted by his own angry thoughts, he could not ignore the agony that pulsed in his knee. Vaguely he could recall the sound of his leg snapping, both during his fight and during the surreal experience of having Vireo and Cassin treat him. No doubt that so many falls like the ones he had been forced to suffer dislocated and tore something in his knee. Memories struggled to the front of his mind, but he pushed them away. He knew time and rest was the only way to heal torn and bruised muscles and ligaments, but just like every other dislocation he had endured he felt as though he never had enough time to rest and heal. There was always something the do, something he couldn’t put off, something that could not wait for him to heal. The feeling of restlessness filled him alongside his anger, and his eyes darted away to instead glare at the floor.

 

            With nausea and dizziness beginning to subside, Ghirahim tried to shift himself into a more comfortable position. His good knee pulled up to his chest, his right leg carefully sprawled out in front of him, and arms folded and resting on his knee. It took all he had to force himself to stand, and moving even like this sapped him of what little energy he had left. Without thinking he let his head drop and rest in his arms, face hidden behind the bandaged flesh. Dear stars he hates this. He hates this more than anything else in this godforsaken land. Being beaten within an inch of his life and failing those he swore he wouldn’t to could not compare to the feeling of being useless. No matter how much he wanted to do something, to do  _ anything _ , the current state of his body would not permit it. He was stuck, sitting, waiting, and being nothing more than a useless lump of scrap metal.

 

            Whatever gods were watching his suffering seemed to have finally taken pity on him. The sounds of tumblers clicking in a lock and a door creaking open. It took only a minimal shift from his arm to allow an eye sight past the flesh and bandages, and with some kind of relief building in his gut, Ghirahim watched as Vireo and Cassin came stumbling back into their house. Relief was met with disgust as he became acutely aware of soot, ash, and mud staining their clothes, but at least watching them was something to do.

 

            Both Vireo and Cassin were heaving, almost as if they had been running after escaped livestock, and both were simply dropping their swords and shields down by the door, not giving any thought of the loud clattering the steel made as it his wood and wall. The sounds made his ears ring, but he ignored it in favour of watching. Vireo and Cassin whispered to one another for only a moment before Vireo sighed and wandered off to the chairs and couch. His eye followed Vireo as he opened a second door, one he had not seen before, and disappeared inside as he closed the door behind him. Perhaps that was their bed and bathroom. Hopefully the brute would be washing up in there. If there was anything he hated more than a disorganized house it was a messy man.

 

            There was a new clattering near the barrels and his eye flickered over towards the noise. Cassin was standing there, drying her hands on a rag and rummaging around in one of the barrels. Eventually she pulled out a bowl and slowly shuffled her way over to the hearth. A pot that had been left on the hearth was emptied of its contents, and Ghirahim couldn’t suppress the shudder that shook him. Ugh. More broth. As much as he appreciated Vireo and Cassin taking it upon themselves to try and feed him, Ghirahim felt far too nauseous to drink more of the overly salty liquid, not to mention he was becoming sick of drinking nothing but broth as his meals. It didn’t fill him quite nearly as much as other foods, and after so many servings of it he was craving something far more substantial than broth.

 

            His eye lingers on Cassin as she shuffled her way towards him. Every hair on his body felt like it was bristling as she shuffled ever closer. He did not like her, and he did not like Vireo. Despite oweing them for saving his life when they could have let him bleed, he did not enjoy the idea of either of them being close to him. Cassin was probably the worst offender of invading his personal space. She sat down in front of him, setting the heated bowl in her ash covered lap, and reached a hand out to him. Ghirahim was having none of it.

 

            Before she could so much as lay a finger on him, he lashed his hand out and grabbed hold of her wrist. The movement startled her, causing her to flinch, and the sudden movement only exhausted Ghirahim even more. Pushing down his own self loathing and anger, Ghirahim managed to hiss.

 

            “I am not a fan of having people touch me without permission.”

 

            Cassin didn’t miss a beat with her response.

 

            “Even if you dislike the idea of being touched, you are still terribly wounded. You’ll need help with cleaning and redressing your injuries.”

 

            “I am not helpless. I am already regaining my strength and I most certainly do not require your assistance in dealing with my wounds. I’d ask that you treat me with respect, rather than treating me like a child with a broken limb.”

 

            “It takes a lot of energy to do even simple tasks for people who are in a state like yours. Just let me fix your wounds.”

 

            “I can handle them myself, thank you very much.”

 

            Cassin opened her mouth once more to retort, brows furrowed and body tense. Ghirahim was quickly tiring of her. He had no interest in allowing someone else to take care of his wounds for him. He’s not a useless lump of metal, he is not helpless. He might be drained and sore from his earlier attempts at standing, but he undoubtedly wasn’t helpless. For a fleeting second he wondered if there was a way to distract her from her incessant prodding and concern. Well, he’d never know if he never tried.

 

            “I haven’t the interest in wasting energy over an argument. How long has it been?”

 

            Cassin seemed to be taken aback, not only by his rude interruption, but by his odd question. A flame of contempt sparked to life inside him at the expression.

 

            “I… What do you mean, ‘how long has it been’?”

 

            “I mean, how long has it been. How long has it been since this was established? This little village of yours?”

 

            “How did you know we’re in a village?”

 

            An annoyed huff pushed past Ghirahim’s teeth, disturbing the neglected curtain of hair in front of his face.

 

            “I am assuming we are. Were you two really in such a big rush this morning that you forgot how loudly you were speaking?”

 

            His voice became mocking, a bitter anger dripping from his words.

 

            “‘We’ve got to help the village out today, Vireo, we’ve got to help them plant seeds.’ Do you really not recall yourself saying that?”

 

            Once more the flame of contempt flickered inside his gut. Her reaction was the one he had been hoping for. Furrowed brows, grit jaw, hand clutching the bowl of broth so tightly that her knuckles turned ashen. He revelled in the frustration that twisted her face during the few seconds of silence he had before she would snap at him. It was always fun to watch an angry human try to bicker. 

 

            “Hey, I do not sound like that!”

 

            “Whether you sound like a nasally elk or not is not the matter at hand. I am asking you how long it has been since this village was established.”

 

            “How do you not know? Did you miss the village practically popping up into existence over night?”

 

            “In case you have forgotten,” Ghirahim hissed, gritting his teeth as he continued to hold her wrist in place. “I would like to kindly remind to take in my general appearance, skin, hair, eyes, height and all. I am not from this sodden little patch of earth you people have decided to call home, nor do I visit as often as you seem to assume I do.”

 

            Using what little of his waning strength he had left he leaned in closer, ignoring the dull throb of stiffness and pain that pulsed through his leg. “So I’ll ask you again. When was your little village established?”

 

             Cassin seemed to notice how his strength was faltering and she tore her hand out from his grasp. A kind of white hot anger sparked in his gut that he had been so obvious about how tired he was becoming, but he dared not let it show. Can’t have her continue believing that he was weak and helpless.

 

            “It happened two years ago, about a month after planning.”

 

            Ghirahim was rather taken about about how easily she answered his question even after his spiteful jabs and condescension. He realized too late that it had shown on his face as Cassin’s frown twisted up at the corners of her mouth, and he hardened his expression once more. That was a step in the right direction but it didn’t tell him all he needed to know.

 

            “And how long was it before those two years that you knew this world existed?”

 

            “You talk like it’s a different planet instead of something that had always been here-”

 

            “Just answer the damned question.”

 

            Despite his rude tone and bitter words, Cassin managed to answer without delving into another argument with him, though her own tone was laced with her own anger and annoyance.

 

            “We only knew at the beginning of the month we started planning. That’s when Link and Zelda returned from the surface. They needed a month of rest before we started.”

 

             Ghirahim hesitated, keeping his face as neutral as he could. So it hadn’t been as long as he had thought. Of course he wouldn’t have been lucky enough to return to the land of the living after the brat himself had died, but if it meant he was out of the void of his blade then he would begrudgingly accept that the brat still lived. If that brat in green and his precious Goddess had returned to their safe little haven in the sky immediately after they had slaughtered Demise then it really was only two years that he had been out of the loop. No doubt the two years spent in the void of his blade had a hand in the exhaustion he felt now. Two years is a relatively long time for his wounds to go untreated. Hopefully with the bits of rest he had been acquiring over the past few days would be enough to kickstart his body to begin healing faster. Unlikely, but he could always hope.

 

             “I’ve answered all your questions, and we’ve allowed you a place to stay. The least you can do now is tell us something more about yourself.”

 

            Cassin’s voice knocked him from his thoughts. Perhaps his moment of hesitation had been a bit more than just a moment. If getting his way hadn’t dulled his anger he would have snapped at her for being so demanding of him. Though it is unlikely that she would react well to learning of his status, there wasn’t much she could do with his name. It couldn’t hurt, could it?

 

             “If only to clear my name of the supposed debt, I’ll allow you to refer to me as Ghirahim, sans my full title. Are you contented?”

 

            “But I-”

 

            “I am a man of high power. Calling me by my name without formalities is a high honour, and it is more than enough to repay my supposed debt.”

 

            He could see how frustrated the claim made her, and while he reveled in her expressions and annoyance, he would not be telling her any more than that. Knowing his name while the brat in green still roamed was dangerous as is, and there is no official guarantee that she would stay silent about him living in their space. No doubt that in his current state, no matter how much he’d love to deny it, that he would be an easy kill for their precious hero and Goddess. He suppressed the shiver that threatened to shake his spine. The child was no doubt referred to as a hero, and having that hero find out about him would do him no favours.

 

            Cassin’s mouth was open, ready to ask yet another question. Ghirahim winced at the sight of it, but the interruption of Vireo was more than enough to let him relax. With the big man lumbering his way out of the room next door and towards them, Cassin lost interest in Ghirahim and stood up, the bowl of broth still held tightly in her hands. Ghirahim watched in silence as they exchanged quiet looks and as the broth was passed off to the now clean Vireo. Cassin whispered something too quick for his ears to catch before she wandered off to where Vireo had appeared from. 

 

            “I hope you aren’t trying to steal her from me. That wouldn’t be a very nice thing to do after the hospitality we’ve shown you.”

 

            Choking on his breath he whipped his head to look back at Vireo in rage, shock, and- for some reason,- burning embarrassment. Vireo had sit himself down in the exact spot Cassin had been sitting in before, the bowl held gingerly in his lap. A grin as devious as a fox’s and as wide as a wolf’s had spread across Vireo’s face. It was somewhat startling to see it and it only angered him further.

 

            “Absolutely not. I’ve no use for overly pushy and physical creatures like her. The only thing she’s good for is inciting headaches.”

 

            A hearty laugh burst from Vireo’s chest, his head tossed back from the force of it. Heat reached the tips of his ears, burning them and tearing through the rest of his body. What? What was so funny about his hate for Cassin? He hadn’t been lying when he said she was only good for headaches. Every time he had spoken to her she had left him with a pounding head and a shortened temper. Becoming frustrated with Vireo’s amusement he opened his mouth to hiss at the other. Vireo found his voice faster.

 

            “Simmer down, hot stuff. It was only a joke. Guessing you and your people don’t crack them too often. Here,” Vireo pushed the bowl of broth into Ghirahim’s arms, forcing him to shift and lean back against the wall to properly take the bowl. “I know you must be sick of it now, but we’re just trying to get rid of the last of it. Once it’s all gone I’ll see if I can’t persuade Cassin into agreeing for something more.”

 

            “The day she concedes is likely the day she dies.”

 

            Despite muttering it bitterly under his breath Vireo gave another hearty laugh at his statement.

 

             “That’s why I like her. Now hurry up and drink. The faster you drink it the faster it’ll be gone.”   
  
             Shooting Vireo a scathing look, Ghirahim glanced down at the broth resting in his arms. His arms felt like lead, warmed by the contents of the bowl and almost unable to so much as hold the bowl, let alone lift it. Once more he stared at his reflection in the dark browns and bronzes. A pale gray face and dark eyes stared back at him. He could feel Vireo stare at him curiously, and before the other could pull yet another joke he lifted the bowl to his lips. Granted it took him quite some effort to lift it, but as soon as he managed to lift it all the way the rest of the process was easy. The broth was just as disgustingly salty as the bowls before it, but he was hungry enough to down it as quickly as his body would allow him. Warmed by the broth, Ghirahim allowed his arms to drop and rest on his raised knee, bowl clutched in his hands with a renewed vigor. Vireo took the bowl from him gently, eyebrows raising at the sight of it empty so soon.

 

            “You act like we’ve been starving you.”

 

            “You are. There isn’t nearly enough in broth for it to reasonably be called a substantial meal.”

 

            “Not to worry. Two or so bowls more of this and we’ll be out.”

 

            “My body will give out before then.”

 

            “I’ll see if I can’t slip some chicken in it next time then.”

 

            “That would be appreciated.”

 

             Silence fell between the two of them, thick and awkward. Closing his eyes as Vireo stood himself up, Ghirahim allowed his head to loll to the side. His earlier efforts to stand had drained him past the point of being revived with broth. He could feel sleep pulling at him already, but he’d be damned if he fell asleep before Vireo had left the room. As much as he liked Vireo more than he did Cassin, he still didn’t trust either of them near him while he slept. Vaguely he could hear Vireo clean up the bowl and stuff it away, but he didn’t break the silence between them. For all he cared, there was nothing left to say to him. Vireo seemed to think otherwise.

 

            “How are your injuries today? ‘Fraid we left in too much of a hurry this morning to check them.”

 

            Ghirahim cracked an eye open to look at Vireo. He was still across the room with the bowl, tucking away somewhere while his eyes met his. Ghirahim let his eye shut again and gave a weak shrug.

 

            “I’ve felt better.”

 

            “But what about your wounds?”

 

            “They’ve felt better.”

 

            There was another stretch of silence before Vireo came clomping back, no doubt bringing over some kind of medical supplies. Ghirahim bristled as Vireo sat down perhaps a little too close for comfort next to him, but didn’t dare speak a word. Vireo allowed the silence to continue for only a moment more before speaking up again.

 

            “Would you rather treat your own wounds?”

 

            For a moment Ghirahim hesitates, thinking over his options. It didn’t take him long to come to a decision. Eyes peeling open and shifting, Ghirahim looked to Vireo and held out a hand expectantly. A smile grew on Vireo’s face and he forked over the medical kit. It was a simple little thing, nothing super interesting to look at, and the contents were no different. A little bottle of alcohol, a few large rolls of bandages, suture wire and a hook.

 

            “There isn’t much here, is there.”

 

            “We might be knights, but that doesn’t mean pay or supplies are the best. We make do with what we have.”

 

            With a less that interested hum, Ghirahim got down to business. He wasted no time in tearing off the bandages binding his arms and torso, discarding them on the floor. Beneath them and the blood filled packing were either wounds still gaping or sutures pulled tightly through skin, keeping the fresh edges pressed together. He paid no mind to what little bleeding the sutures did, as compared to his torso it was miniscule. Several deep puncture wounds littered his chest, each dangerously close to his core or directly over top of it. Some of them had stopped bleeding, pink in colour and slowly turning red from the removal of packing. Others were not as lucky, rusting and stinking and angry. Blood oozed from beneath bits of stiff, rusting tissue, with no clear signs of stopping. Vireo, who he had been ignoring, made a soft sound of concern and disgust, but he paid him no mind. He had seen this kind of thing before. These weren’t the first nasty wounds he had received before, and they certainly wouldn’t be the last. Treating them would be no different than the many times he had to before in the midst of a battle.

 

            “Whoa whoa hey! Hey buddy slow down!”

 

            Whatever else he could hear from Vireo above the rushing blood in his ears he ignored. Obviously Vireo had never seen a man reach into their own chest cavity before to pick away at the dead and rotting flesh within. Agony rocketed through his chest, furious and pulsating through his torso as bit by bit he pinched and tore out the stiff, rusting flesh. It would do him no good later in his recovery and would only serve as a source for further corrosion if left alone. The pain of doing so was a necessary one. This was nothing new for him.

 

             Despite a constant painful static filling his ears, mind and body, he continued to pick and tear at any bit of flesh that felt rough and nearly crystalline in shape, the pads of his fingers slowly dragging across the edges of the wound. Vaguely he could make out that Vireo’s shouting had died down, no doubt turning from disgusted concern to a sickened curiosity. He dared not stop his picking until he had scratched and pinched away any rust he could find, tearing away the edges of the fresh flesh to be certain he had taken everything. What rust he did pick out was joined together in a slight pile just before him, flecks of all varying sizes smudged with his own blood. Ghirahim would have taken a moment to stop and rest had his wounds not been bleeding as profusely as they were. He jolted from the sound of Vireo shuffling, nearly springing out of his spot on the floor to grab at a roll of bandages and the bottle of alcohol. Absolutely not would Vireo be touching his wounds again, not if he could help it. Without thinking he tore off strips of bandages, balling them up tight and dousing them in the alcohol. He allowed himself only a quick inhale before he shoved the wad of alcohol and bandages into one of the many punctures. The moment the alcohol came into contact with raw muscle caused a shock of pain to sway through his torso, nearly strong enough to knock the breath from him. Moments pass before the pain dulls just enough to allow him do the same to a new strip of bandages in another puncture.

 

            Slow going as it was, the only thing that burned through him more than the alcohol against muscle was the curious gaze of Vireo. He stared as if he had never seen a man treat his own wounds before, staring as if this was the first and only time he would ever see such a thing. It was frustrating, in a way, to have him stare so shamelessly at him while he took charge of fixing his wounds. In a moment between the pain of his chest and the preparation of another soaked wad of bandages, Ghirahim voiced his frustrations.

 

            “What is it? Why do you look at me as if you’ve never seen blood before? Are you not a knight?”

 

            Vireo, seemingly embarrassed by his staring, shook his head decisively.

 

            “No no, I just… I’ve never seen someone just, tear their skin and muscle away like it was nothing before.”

 

            “It is nothing anymore. It has died and is beginning to rust, and I would rather not have my body corrode from the inside out.”

 

            “You…” Vireo faltered as Ghirahim shot him a bitter glare, but soon regained his confidence and voice seconds later, a trait Ghirahim was beginning to really dislike in both Cassin and Vireo.

 

            “I didn’t know you could rust.”

 

            “I told you I was a sword spirit.”

 

            “But that doesn’t automatically equate to you rusting. If anything it has connotations that you are instead organic, or… Or even magic.”

 

            “In a way you could say that I am a man of metal and magic.”

 

            The bitter tone that had been creeping into his voice seemed to finally hit Vireo, and he fell silent, this time with a troubled look on his face. Ghirahim took it as his cue to continue with his own treatment, stuffing a few more balls of soaked bandages into his wounds as Vireo stared on in silence. Despite having been snippy about Vireo’s staring earlier, Ghirahim cut his losses and instead ran with his silence. He would take a comfortable silence and a bit of staring over both staring and speaking. Vireo seemed more or less content with staring himself, and he was more than comfortable with that.

 

            After a each of the punctures had been packed, he began wrapping the first scratchy round of bandages around his middle. Once more his arms felt like lead, shaking and burning from the effort it took to fully treat himself, but he did not allow himself to stop. Slowly but surely the bandages he had torn off his middle were replaced with clean ones, ones that did not reek of the metallic tang of blood. His arms were wrapped again once his torso was done and alcohol had been spread on the sutures, just as snuggly as they had been before. It took him longer than he had thought it would to finish redressing his wounds, but once he was down he burned with a smug satisfaction. The roll of bandages and the bottle were placed back into the kit and the kit was shut firmly, receiving a quick kick from Ghirahim’s good leg back over to Vireo. The old bandages were used to scoop up the rusted flesh and cover it, the flecks soon buried in a wad. Whatever blood was on the floor was quickly wiped up, and as soon as all was done Ghirahim settled himself against the wall, ready for rest once more. Vireo lingered, his eyes held by Ghirahim’s, before he finally stood and brushed himself off.

 

            “Ah… You must be tired. I’ll leave you alone tonight.”

 

            “It is appreciated.”

 

            “Good… Good night.”

 

            Ghirahim didn’t respond as Vireo shuffled his way over to the room that Cassin had disappeared into. He had seemed unsure of himself over something, something that either he wouldn’t share with Ghirahim or something that didn’t have anything to do with Ghirahim at all. A nagging spark flared up in his chest, but it was indecipherable as being worry or pain. Perhaps it was both? Either way, he shoved it back down into the depths of his mind. With Vireo gone, and his wounds starting to numb, he would finally be able to get some decent rest for the night. He shuffled himself for a moment, trying to get comfortable against the wall and the hard wood floors before he settled. He was far too exhausted to wriggle around for the perfect position, and he would settle for subpar for only tonight. Leaned against the wall, legs sprawled before him and chin pressed to chest, Ghirahim finally allowed sleep to tug him under. Perhaps tomorrow when Cassin and Vireo were gone he could attempt to stand once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for stickin around with me my dudes, it really means a lot to me. Bet y'all didn't think Ghirahim could rust, huh? Bet y'all didn't think Link had super mad knowledge on the local flora and fauna, huh? Well, maybe you knew that one but like, Link is actually smart-ish for once and not just some weird robot solider who never talks! Kinda... But ya know.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed! I might be able to crank out another one this month, so stay tuned!
> 
> EDIT: Can you tell I didn't fuckin proof read this until three days after uploading it? Cause HOO boy there are some crazy typos and shit in there I forgot to remove. For now though y'all can enjoy my god awful sleep deprived writing/editing lol. Sorry about that my dudes, I was just desperate to get this chapter out of my drafts and out into the world. I'll fix it maybe in a few chapters lol. Thank you again for sticking around my dudes!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link has a Good Day (tm) until he doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fuckin hated writing this chapter cause I just wanna write the main antagonists dancing to Daddy by Psy. Also all the good shit starts to pick up after this chapter. Last boring chapter for me I guess lol.

            Light on his feet and music pulsing through his thoughts, he strut his way through the village, a messenger bag hanging from his shoulder and blade hanging from his hip. He couldn’t tell what had made him feel so light, so confident, so happy. Perhaps it was the warm day, the way the sun beat down onto their forest home and the way the birds sang in the treetops around them. Perhaps it was people around him, the way vendors were alive with animated owners, the way children ran past playing their games, the way everyone seemed to be out and enjoying the last few days of summer’s warmth. Perhaps it was the fact that he had been forced to take the next two days off for rest. He had been working himself to the bone as of late, soul jittering just beneath the skin in worry, running all over to make sure this new life was safe. After yesterday’s incident Eagus had forced Link to take a few days for himself.

 

            “The world will still be here while you have your rest, Link. You’ve pushed yourself too hard these past few months, and you deserve to have a break.” Eagus had told him.

 

            As much as Link would have liked to argue with him over such an idea, he was glad he had simply nodded and walked away. Perhaps it was the fact that for two whole days he had no responsibilities other than to take care of himself that made his heart so light. No knights asking him to help them spar, no professors asking him to teach them about some fauna or flora they had found interesting, no world begging him to save them from the next horrible beast that lurks in the dark. He had no one to look out for but himself. Eagus had been right. A few days off was exactly what he needed.

 

            At first the morning had been just as stressful and confusing. What was he supposed to do on his own? Eagus hadn’t sent him a wake up call, and he had no duties to attend to as a knight. Zelda would be busy today with her own knightly chores, as she did not have a supposed concussion, and he would not be able to spend time with her until it was late at night, and no doubt at that point she would need her sleep. Pipit, Groose, Eagus, all of those he considered his friends would be busy while he was not. After a few deep breaths, however, the stress and confusion had lifted. He could do whatever the hell he wanted. With a thought so freeing, he had laid back down and went back to sleep, enjoying a dreamless rest until the sun grew so bright that his blinds could not fight it back.

 

            When he could no longer sleep he had thrown on his knight’s uniform, despite Eagus’ insistence the night before he wear his casual clothes, and grabbed his sword and shield. A moment had passed where he remembered he had no duties, and no need for neither sword nor shield, but he shrugged it off and hung them from the belt that sat at his waist. There is always a need for them. He wanted to be prepared in case anything went wrong, however unlikely it was. And after heavy consideration Link had pulled a leather bag over his shoulder and left the Knight’s Academy.

 

            The world outside was warmed by the sun, birds soaring overhead in the breeze, wildlife going about their lives in the edges of the forest, the clouds lazily drifting in and out of the sun’s light and keeping the earth from baking in the light. After a good sleep, emerging into a perfect summer’s day only bolstered his mood. Without a sense of worry or urgency pressing at his mind, Link had started towards the bazaar in a leisurely stroll. For the first time in a long time, things had started feel like they were going to be okay. Ever since he had taken down the Demon King, there had always been a nagging, lurking fear that something bad would happen, that he hadn’t actually succeeded, that all he had worked so hard to save and protect would be broken into thousands of pieces and ruined. A day without worries, a day without problems, a day without the nagging anxiety and fear was exactly what he had been dreaming of since then, and he hadn’t even known it. Today will be a good day.

 

            Just as Link had entered the section of roads in the centre of town known as the bazaar, hundreds of sights, smells, and sounds flooded him. The calls of vendors selling their goods, children running and playing kick ball, the smell of fresh bread and pastries, people sitting in the very centre of the traffic strumming on lutes and harps, plucking chords on a piano, singing and dancing and roping in the occasional passerby into a group dance. Seeing the village around him continue on with their lives without a care in the world brought a new level of brightness to his heart, a heavy weight beginning to lift off of his soul. Things were okay, and things are going to continue to be okay. With that thought in mind, his stroll became a strut, and it certainly caught the attention of the people. The vendors selling fruits and vegetables remarked how well he was looking. The butcher commented on how his smile could rival the sun’s. Batreaux greeted him with a mighty hug, lifting Link off his feet and welcoming him back to his ever cobwebby and grimly decorated shop of puzzles. He would have told the man that humans didn’t usually decorate their houses with bones and fake spiders and cobwebs, but after such a warm hearted welcome he didn’t have the heart to break it to him. At least the children seemed to enjoy the inherent spookiness of the shop, and all of the little puzzles and crosswords and sudoku puzzles in it.

 

            Each vendor and store Link visited, he was met with smiling faces and warm welcomes. Other villagers spoke to him and noted how happy he was looking as of late. Though he wasn’t a big fan of idle small talk, speaking with those who stopped him brought him a sense of community, something he hadn’t felt since his days in training at the Knight’s Academy. It was wonderful to feel like he was an apprentice again, running around carefree and aloof like he used to. Feeling like he had actually completed something for the first time in days, Link called it a victory and strolled his way away from the bazaar. He had done his own chores, bought food and supplies, and even indulged with a few puzzles that could keep him busy for the rest of the day. He’d head back home and settle down for another nap and start working on some puzzles when he woke. Nothing could really ruin a day like this. There’s no way a day like this could turn sour.

 

            “Oi! Link! Wait up!”

 

            The cry had startled him out of his daze. Turning to look at who had been calling to him, he spotted the navy tunic of a knight racing to catch up with him. He recognized her as the knight who had hit him in the head a few days ago during a sparring match, and while the memory of it didn’t damper his mood, a feeling of dread slowly chewed at his gut. What was it? What did she need? He knew he couldn’t say no to whatever she had to ask of him, but it was his day off, and he really didn’t want that to end so soon. She was quick to stop beside him, slouching somewhat as she caught her breath.

 

            “That’s a real shiner I gave you the other day. I just wanted to say how sorry I am again.”

 

            Whatever dread had been seeded in his gut vanished, relief washing over him. Oh. She was only apologizing to him. She didn’t need anything from him. His vacation day was still secured. He raised his hands in a placating gesture, giving her the most assuring smile he could.

 

            “It’s okay, really. Being a knight is a dangerous occupation.”

 

            “That still doesn’t mean it was okay for me to give you a concussion.”

 

            Link just gave a shrug, his smile growing a little wider.

 

            “It was just an accident. Accidents happen sometimes. No big deal. Better it’s a concussion than loss of sight or a break in my skull, right?”

 

            “I… I suppose so…”

 

            “Come on.” Link motioned to her, gesturing to his side. “Let’s take a walk together. I can show you just how agile I still am, even with this bruise.”

 

            Despite her hesitancy, she nodded to him and smiled. Once more his smile grew, and he set off towards the Knight Academy, happier as she fell into step beside him. Today was a warm day, the sun shining and birds singing and a light breeze blowing through the streets. It was the kind of day one would want to share with another. Although he knew very little about the knight beside him, he knew that he wouldn’t mind sharing a stroll with her back to the academy. She seemed to be just as pleased with the walk, grinning and humming softly with a bit of a kick in her step. Link couldn’t help but hum along with her. It was one of his favourite tunes after all. When she realized he was humming with her, she smiled even wider, her voice strengthening some. Together they hummed, others in the busy streets looking over as they went along their merry way. As synchronized as they believed they were, it only took one crack in his voice to break the tune. Both burst into laughter at his voice that settled moments later. Within the silence that followed their laughter the streets seemed to buzz with energy, supercharged from their laughter. More and more people appeared to be feeding off of their happiness. It has been quite some time since such a thing has happened, he realized. With all of his seriousness and frowning, people had been quieter, more nervous, exercising intense caution over every little thing just as he did. After all, if the most relaxed and laid back person in town is freaking out over everything, then there must be something of serious concern about.

 

            His thoughts shattered at the sound of a voice wavering, methodically musical. Looking over to her, she was looking right at him, motioning for him to join in. He hesitated, her voice reaching the end of her note. He hadn’t sung in public in a long time. From the sound of the note she had sung, it was a song he knew well. Granted it was one of his favourites, but something nagging in his gut made him nervous. He hasn’t sung in a long time. He glanced away for a second, mind racing between thoughts before he came to an official decision.

 

            “Past lives, couldn’t ever hold me down lost love, is sweeter when it’s finally found.”

 

            A grin spread wide on her face at the sound of his voice, and a smile of his own slowly began to creep onto his features. She joined in a moment later.

 

            “I’ve got the strangest feeling, this isn’t our first time around.”

 

            “Past lives, couldn’t ever come between us.”

 

            “Sometimes, the dreamers finally wake up.”

 

            “Don’t wake me I’m not dreaming, don’t wake me I’m not dreaming.”

 

            A second of silence punctuated their song, some of the villagers looking in their direction as they continued to walk. Their silence was broken as she began to sing the melody, shimmying her shoulders to the beat of the song. Link struggled to hold down a laugh before he joined her, shimmying just as she did until it was time to sing again.

 

            “All my past lives, they got nothing on me.”

 

            “Golden eagle, you’re the one and only flying high~! Through the cities in the sky~!”

 

            Both she and Link hit another wavering note, singing it out in unison until once more his voice cracked. For a moment their singing was interrupted by their own snickering and giggling. Perhaps he hadn’t used his voice for a lot longer than he had originally thought he had. Both managed to recover their composure quickly enough, starting their song once again.

 

            “I’ll take you way back~! Countless centuries. Don’t you remember? That you were meant to be my Queen of Hearts~?”

 

            “Meant to be my, love.”

 

            Once more they sang a wavering note, this time without Link’s voice hitting an odd squeak.

 

            “Through all of my lives~! I never thought I’d wait so long for you~!”

 

            “The timing is right~! The stars are aligned~!”

 

            By now their shimmying had started up again, both of them belting out their voices loud enough to draw the eyes of all the passersby on the path. For once, it didn’t seem to matter too much that everyone was looking at them. They sang together, uncaring of whose eyes lingered.

 

            “So save that heart for me! Cause girl you know that you’re my destiny! Swear to the moon the stars the sons and the daughters~! Our love is deeper than the oceans of water!”

 

            Without warning she dropped her voice, hunching her back and continuing to shimmy her shoulders.

 

            “Hey. I need you now, I’ve waited oh so long!”

 

            Link cut in, sinking into the same pose as she.

 

            “Gimme love! I need you now, I’ve waited oh so long!”

 

            With another strange squeak from his voice, both of them cut off in laughter. 

 

            “I’m guessing you don’t sing too often anymore?” She asked, no longer singing and straightening herself out. Link scratched at the back of his neck, somewhat embarrassed by the way his voice sounded more like a teenager’s during puberty.

 

            “What gave it away?”

 

            His feigned innocence brought another laugh from the both of them, this one a little softer than that of those before it. If there had been any wisps of dread or nervousness lingering in him, they were quick to have faded with their singing and laughter. Laughter could be a formidable medicine. A comfortable silence fell between them as they continued on their stroll, filled with the sounds of the world around them. Birds singing, the wind kicking up the banners that flapped lazily on their ropes, kids playing kickball, and the distant cries of knights.

 

            Link’s blood ran cold. Where those knights he was hearing, shouting and crying out? Or was it the wind that was rushing through the banners and ropes overhead messing with his head? His walking slowed, losing the joyful spring it had earlier. She slowed as he did, looking at him with curious eyes. He paid her no mind, staring up at the banners and listening. He could clearly hear the wind blowing past them, the flapping of fabric filling his head. The distinct sound of boots on earth and a battle cry was nearly masked by the wind. Just to be sure it really was what he was hearing, he halted and waited, straining to hear it. A crash of pots colliding and breaking was accompanied by another cry, one the sent a shudder down his spine. He glanced to the knight he had been walking with, and thankfully she seemed to have heard it as well. Both drew their weapons and began to dash, sprinting towards the sounds of a struggle. It became even harder to hear the cries and shouting beneath the clinking and clanging of sheathes and chainmail, but as they drew closer the sounds of the fight became louder and louder. A new feeling of dread and anticipation filled his guts, this one tighter than the one he had felt the day before. Something awful was happening right now, at the edge of their village.

 

             Blowing past villagers retreating into their houses, both Link and the other knight swung around the corner and skid to a halt. Another knight, this one in mustard yellow, hit the ground and slid to a stop just at their feet. Despite having the wind knocked out of them, they seemed to be fine and were already picking themselves back up off of the ground. Farther down the path only a few yards ahead of them stood three figures. Each were adorned in dirty gray cloaks, tears and tatters in the few inches closest to the earth and ashes covering the frayed hems. One of them wore a thick blue scarf over their face, hiding everything but the eyes. The hood of their cloak shadowed his eyes, and made it difficult to tell the exact colour. They were the shortest in the group. The second tallest wore a mask shaped like a crow’s head, a long silver beak protruding from the black feathered mask. The eyes were covered in a thick mesh, and seeing anything past them must have been difficult. The final and tallest figure wore a mask in the shape of something that he had only seen in the books of legends. Short muzzle with a stony face, and a mane of intense contrasting colour. He couldn’t remember the exact beast it was modelled after, but all he needed to know was that it was a dangerous one.

 

            The tallest had an arm outstretched and raised, long thick sleeves hiding the shape of their arm. In their black gloved hand was another knight, one in striking red, dangling by the scruff of his tunic. Other than being held off of the ground like a ragdoll, he didn’t seem to be hurt, wriggling and squirming and trying his damnedest to twist around and slash at the person holding him high off of the earth. The largest of the strangers watched him through the eye holes of their mask, still and silent, before they shifted and swung the knight by his scruff. The knight went flying, falling to the earth like a bag of bricks and choking on his breath when he hit the ground. Whatever blood that wasn’t chilled was soon icy in his veins. This person seemed to be just as dangerous as the beast their mask was modelled after, and should not be taken lightly.

 

            The tallest straightened out their cloak and brushed off the outfit they had on underneath, head swinging around like a hungry wolf’s in search of its next meal. They halted when they saw him, bright amber eyes seeming to pierce his very soul. Link stiffened, and tightened his grip on his blade. The knight beside him did the same, hunkering herself down in preparation to either lunge at the stranger or leap out of their way. Link held eye contact with the tallest of the group, refusing to move just as the other was. Both of the shorter companions, who had been busy looking around in disinterest, turned to face Link as the tallest had done. For several moments the silence held, with neither knight nor stranger daring to move. The wait was strangling, and the silence suffocating as they held their standoff. Dread continued to swirl and stew in his gut, growing exponentially by the second. More and more knights began to stream towards the path, stopping and unsheathing their own weapons as they joined the stand off. Amber eyes, hard and calculating, broke away from Link’s and searched the crowd, once again seeming to look for the weakest link. Each knight bristled as their stare passed over them. It was only after some time of searching the knights before them did they make a move.

 

            Any hostility in their stance dropped like a stone in a lake and they almost cheerfully raised their hands in a gesture of surrender and peace. The once stony amber eyes had shut, and Link could almost picture the gentle grin on the other’s face. None of the knights relaxed at the surrender of the tallest, nor did they settle when the shorter two copied the tallest. Words came from behind the feline-esque mask in a voice too thick, clumsy, and foreign to understand. The language was one that Link did not know, and it took him aback for a moment. The one behind the scarf spoke in the same language, gargling to the tallest about something or other, and the tallest seemed to nod almost in embarrassment and shame. They cleared their throat, a horribly grating sound, before they attempted to speak once more.

 

            “Fear not. Mean no harm, I promise.”

 

            His accent was still incredibly thick, but it was far more discernable than the language he had been speaking before. His voice didn’t seem to have much an impact on the knights as none of them lowered their weapons or their guard. The tallest shook his head and hands in as placating a gesture as he could manage.

 

            “Now now, it was a misunderstanding. I swear to you that my friends and I are not any threat. Simple language barriers, yes?”

 

            “Who are you?”

 

            Link startled himself. He hadn’t even realized it was his own voice until it had left his mouth, but this was no time to show uncertainty. Link took a strong step forwards, his sword and shield still drawn and held defensively. The stranger once again waved his hands in a sign of peace and surrender. Even with a knight taking a threatening stance he managed to hold his ground.

 

            “We are nothing but visitors. We only wish for safe plantings-”

 

            The shortest warbled something to the tallest, and the tallest cleared his throat again.

 

            “Safe passings, I mean. We only wish for safe passings. You must forgive me, as I am still not fluent in all languages of the wide world.”

 

            “What do you want from us?”

 

            Another knight, Pipit, had taken a step forwards to join in on the questioning. Once more the stranger waved his hands. Did he really think they would stop bristling if he kept waving his hands around like that?

 

            “It is not to see you hurt or dead, I assure you. We were merely defending ourselves.”

 

            The one in the crow mask gave a sharp elbow into the side of the tallest, chirping to him in a tone that he could only make out as feeling annoyed.

 

            “To cut to the race, er… The ah, the chase, I mean. We only wish for safe passings, and if you shall grant it, some help in our search.”

 

            All around him knights were becoming more and more restless, each of them filling with unease and anticipation. Several were beginning to shuffle their feet, the clear signs of just wanting to fight and run the strangers off. Anxiety burst up from the dread within him, and the strong urge to fight and protect each of them forced him to take another step towards the strangers, his blade and shield slowly beginning to lower.   
  
            “What is it you’re searching for?”

 

            “We are searching for Krl’desh.”

 

            The answer was given so bluntly, so matter-of-fact that for a few lengthy seconds Link lost his train of thought. He had spoken it as if they were supposed to know what this krill dish thing is. Is it a person? An object? A weapon? The lack of clarity only twisted his guts into tighter and tighter knots. Thankfully the other seemed to realize that no one gathered around them knew what a krill dish is and scratched at the back of his neck through the hood of his own cloak.

 

            “Krl’desh is an old friend of mine. Have not seen him for many years. He is… He is about this tall,” he said, motioning with his hand how tall the man was. “He is pale, has dark eyes, light hair. He is very strong, very outspoken. He is not hard to miss, but he is evasive, solitary, and most likely injured.”

 

            With an explanation in order and a better understanding of the stranger’s intentions, the crowd of knights seemed to relax. Murmuring began amongst them, bits and pieces of which could only vaguely make out. Some were still questioning the newcomers, some were sympathizing with their plights. Link didn’t bother to listen to the others as he made direct eye contact with the tallest once more. Amber and sky blue stared at one another, both trying to read the other while hiding all they could from the seeking gaze. Link stood like that for several moments, watching the other. Another smile must have spread on the stranger’s face, as the corners of their eyes folded and creased. Link only continued to feel worse and worse.

 

            “Will you assist us in our search?”

 

            The stranger’s voice cut through the air like a warm knife through butter, and for a minute after the question was posed silence settled once again, just as thick and suffocating as it had been before. Finally, the silence was broken for good.

 

            “We’ll lead you to the other side of the village, and we will keep an eye out for your friend.”

 

            If it was possible for a once hostile stranger to become even cheerier, he managed to do it. He bounced on the balls of his feet, which he noticed he stands on constantly, and he clapped his hands a few times, the sound muffled by the thick gloves. He folded his hands together and continued to bounce on the balls of his feet, the edges of his cloak moving strangely.

 

            “Wonderful! We greatly appreciate your kind natures! It means a great deal for us!”

 

            Hesitance spread across the gathered knights, some of them beginning to disperse back to their posts and duties. Several, Pipit and Link included, lingered behind to take the strangers where they wanted to go. The stranger and his companions came closer, and Link could feel himself bristle a little bit more. He had never meant to spend his day like this, bristling and anxious and filled with dread. The peace and joy he had felt earlier in the day had melted away, letting the usual negative emotions he’d felt in the past two years take over again. A part of him wished he could walk away from this mess like it had never existed, but he knew that he would never be able to.

 

            A black hand was thrown out to him, shoved towards him in a manner meant to be friendly. The tallest had extended it to him, amber eyes watching cheerfully behind the stoney, expressionless mask. Behind him his companions crooned under their breath, speaking to one another. The tallest paid them no mind, and gave an almost cat-like head tilt when Link hesitated to take his hand. Link pushed himself to move, sheathing his sword and strapping his shield to his back once more before taking the other’s hand. Despite being covered in a thick black leather, the other’s hand was incredibly warm to the touch, and accompanied with a large hand and an overwhelmingly strong grip, the hand shake was more than likely to be sweaty. The stranger didn’t seem to notice or mind.

 

            “We appreciate your assistance. I am Sol. Featherhead is Nilr, and scarf boy is called Loh.”

 

            “L-Link. My name is Link.”

 

            “No need to be shy,” Sol chittered, his tongue becoming less clumsy. He pulled his hand back and planted it into Link’s hair, which took him completely by surprise. “We wish no harm upon you. We only wish for safe passings and Krl’desh.”

 

            As soon as Sol pulled his hand away, Link had his hands in his hair, returning it to it’s usual state of discord. Despite being at least seven feet tall, immensely strong and no doubt dangerous, he seemed to be a rather gentle hearted. Though the invasion of personal space was a trait that Link would have rathered he didn’t have. The knight he had run here with was holding back her snickers, covering her mouth and scratching at her cheek. At least, she had been holding them back until Sol extended his hand to her and Pipit simultaneously. Seems it was less funny when she was put in the same position. Link watched them as Sol vigorously shook their hands. Though Sol was acting friendly something didn’t sit right with him. Something about these strangers gave him a heightened feeling of anticipation. He glanced towards the other two, Niller and Low as he seemed to have called them. He immediately regretted doing so. Niller was staring at him, or at least he thought they were staring at them. With the eyeholes of the mask blackened with mesh, it was nearly impossible to tell, but a something in his gut told him they were staring right at him. If Niller was, they gave no sign of it. Low pushed himself in front of Niller, eyes creased with the telltale sign of a smile beneath his scarf. At this proximity it was clearer that his eyes were blue enough to rival his own, though they held no ill intent, only a lazy glimmer. Surprisingly, he lacked the accent that Sol spoke with.

 

            “You seem like a decent guy. Have you seen our friend wandering around here? He likes his privacy, yeah, but he’s naturally drawn to large groups of people.”

 

            Link was taken aback by the stench of his breath. It smelt sour like burning flesh and rot. What in the worlds was this man eating for his breath to smell so horribly and so strongly that it could pass through fabrics? Taking a moment to right his thoughts, Link shook his head.

 

            “I haven’t. I think you and your friends are the first strangers to pass through here.”

 

            Link was impressed with himself for keeping his voice so steady in the face of a stranger, though it didn’t last him long once Low snapped his gloved fingers.

 

            “That’s a shame. Perhaps he’s more injured than we thought.”

 

            “I doubt that Krl’desh is that wounded, Loh.” Sol cut in. Seems he had finished his self introduction to the other knights and was now standing beside them, amber eyes almost glaring down at Low. Or… It was Loh, wasn’t it? His tongue is so thick that it is difficult to hear the different letters in his words. Loh shuddered and backed away.

 

            “Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t… We’ll just have to see.”

 

            Sol gave a firm nod and turned his gaze back to Link. Thankfully they were not hard and piercing like they had been when he had been looking at Loh. Somehow that made Link’s gut churn even worse. A man that could switch between anger and joy that quickly definitely had something to hide. Sol made a quick gesture with his hand towards the road leading farther into the village. His voice was almost too innocent to be genuine.

 

            “Will you do us the honor of taking us through your settlement?”

 

            Link could only manage a mute nod before he turned and started walking. The other knights fell into a circle around the strangers once they began following behind Link. Already he could tell how poorly this would go. Something bad was going to happen once again, and these three would undoubtedly be at its core. Even with Sol and Loh acting so friendly, and Niller so quiet, something about them made him believe they would be nothing but a source of trouble. Even their appearances alone told him there was something off about them. Each of them ungodly tall, even Loh, and Sol being incredibly strong, strong enough to toss fully grown knights around like they were nothing. They didn’t seem to speak their language, at least not as a first language. Link had never seen these people before. He was aware, of course, that there may still be people living on the surface from an ancient era. How else would Impa have been here? She must have had a village herself somewhere in the farther reaches of unexplored lands, and from the way her own voice had sounded, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she too had another language as her first. But these three were very much unlike Impa. All three of them were far taller than Impa had ever been, even at a young age. Their voices did not sound like Impa’s either. Her accent had been light and almost graceful, a kind of foreign music to the ears. Sol’s accent sounded more like boulders crashing down the sides of a mountain, rough and grating and terribly, terribly thick. Granted Loh spoke without any hint of an accent, but he was capable of speaking the same language that Sol and Niller had. Even Niller’s voice, through the layers of their native tongue, seemed to have a voice as rough as a gravel path. These are not the same people of Impa’s, and they were not the same people of their own. They were a mystery, and a mystery is not something Link likes to fight.

 

            Behind him Link could hear another knight- Pipit, he recognized- asking the strangers questions about themselves. Intrigued, Link listened in. It couldn’t hurt to learn more about these strangers.

 

            “We’ve never seen another human before here on the surface. Where are you lot from?”

 

            “We are from a place far away from here.” That was Sol’s voice, abrasive and echoing. “We come from outside of your borders, past distant volcanoes and over great plains where ponds look like mirrors in the night sky.”

 

            “Did the goddesses not send your people to the skies like they did ours?”

 

            A different voice, Loh’s this time. “There were many people that were not graced by the gods. Perhaps we lived too far away, so that they could not see us. Some of us might even believe there are no such things as gods or goddesses.”

 

            Another voice, lower than Pipit’s and more bellowing. An older knight no doubt. “You’re saying that there are other humans living out on the surface?”

 

            “Of course there is! The Sheikah, for one, live out on the land far northwest from here, near the plains of stars and puddles that Sol spoke of. At least, one colony of them do. I believe there are several other settlements of the Sheikah living all over, far out from the borders here. North west, south east, west, and east if I recall correctly.”

 

            Voices of the knights accompanying the party started chattering, loud and excited. The fact that there was in fact other humans living on the surface no doubt excited them. Link hadn’t shared much of his journeys on the surface with Zelda, let alone the rest of the people. He had omitted the information that there had been others living on the surface long before they had moved to the surface. Whether or not now was a good time for the rest of the villagers to learn of other beings on the surface was beyond Link, but hearing them speak like nothing about this was wrong made something in his twist harder. For a moment he stopped. He had been so happy this morning. How had he become so on edge so fast? He shook the thought off and spoke up, trying to keep his voice light like it had been before meeting these strangers.

 

            “A friend of mine, one from my journey, told me of what had happened in the past. Fissures in the ground broke the surface, and from them came the Demon King and his armies of demons and monsters. They searched and killed for a power that has been long forgotten, and left no humans alive. How did your people escape that?”

 

            All of the chattering that had come from the knights and the newcomers quickly died. Maybe he hadn’t been as light with his tone as he thought he had? He could feel several knights staring at him, both in confusion and shock. For a moment in their walk, all three of the strangers were silent. Something akin to fear bloomed in him when they didn’t seem to have an answer, but it withered just as quickly as the talking had when a new voice chirped. It was just as gravelly as Sol’s, but still far gentler than his. Niller, it must be.

 

            “Not every creature is as powerless as you seem to assume them to be. Life is good at adjusting and changing to the world around it. It has to be, or else all will die. Your ancestors, and ours as well, knew this better than we ever could. That is why your people took to the skies, and that is why our people took to the ground, hiding right under the noses of the armies.”

 

            “Nilr is right.” Sol jumped in just as she had finished talking, adjusting his gloves absentmindedly. “Adapting to our environments is all we can do. That is how your people lived in the sky, how the Sheikah remained on the surface, and how ours lived below the earth itself.” A hand landed on Link’s shoulder, and he could feel his entire body go stiff with anticipation. “Is there something bottling you, Link?”

 

            Before Niller- Niler? Nilr?- could correct him in their own tongue, Link shrugged his hand off of his shoulder, rolling both of them for a few second. “It’s nothing. Probably just some adrenaline jitters getting the best of me. We should hurry to the edge of town. I doubt your friend has even been here.”

 

            “Oh! Speaking of the edge of town, my friends and I have one last favour to take.”

 

            Dreading the question, Link made a halfhearted noise of interest. Sol continued when he was acknowledged.

 

            “It has been a long journey for us. Perhaps you would allow us to spend the night on the edges of your settlement? I assure you we wish no harm, only to rest for the night.”

 

            Link hesitated. Strangers they knew very little about who had the potential to be incredibly dangerous and unpredictable wanted to stay the night. At the edge of the village or not, none of it made Link feel particularly safe. What if they were to attack some of the villagers at the edges during the night, and flee before anyone could catch them? What if they burnt the entire place to the ground? All over the surface there wasn’t a single monster they could trust. Impa had been the only real human resident of the surface, and all others such as Kikwis, Gorons, Mogmas and Parella were all nonthreatening in the way they spoke and acted. Something inside him gave a sharp pang of guilt. They were strangers, yes, but to outright assume they were monsters was wrong. They were more intelligent than monsters, sentient and coherent and capable like the allies he made on his quest. But they were dangerous, too. Dangerous just as the monsters were. The fact that he couldn’t see their faces made him even more anxious. His hesitation went on far too long, and an older knight responded in Link’s place.

 

            “You can stay, but only if you’re fine with having some knights close by. Monsters can get real close to the village edges at night.”

 

            Link didn’t even need to look at Sol to know how excited he was. Another bout of leather clapping and the sounds of his feets scuffling the ground excitedly.

 

            “Wonderful! My tribemates and I truly appreciate your kindness!”

 

            Despite their settlement having been made two years prior, it was still rather small and did not take long to reach the other edge. Sol surged ahead of the knights, a skip in his step, and settled himself down at the base of the nearest tree. Nilr and Loh were not far behind, less enthusiastic but seemingly just as grateful for a place to rest. Loh especially looked exhausted. As soon as the three were settled their acknowledgement of the knights vanished. They murmured amongst themselves, voices grating as they spoke and bickered and agreed. What they were saying went over Link’s head. He could not understand their language, nor could he shake the familiarity of their accents. Like the other knights around him, Link wasn’t sure what to do. Pipit was the first to move, beginning to patrol the area around the three and watching for any monsters. Two other knights followed suit, joining him in strict patrol. The others dispersed, wandering away back to their own posts. Link shuffled, eyes never leaving Sol. The knight beside placed a hand on his shoulder, and for a few moments he didn’t acknowledge her, all his focus on Sol. Sol was glancing between his two companions, rumbling something to them before his eyes caught Link’s. Amber met blue again, and the corners of his eyes folded in the sign of yet another smile. Link didn’t smile back. They held their staring for only a moment before Sol jumped right back into his conversation, speaking as if he were scolding Loh. Link turned away, towards the other knight, and whispered to her under his breath.

 

               “Something about them isn’t right… We should double our patrols tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU MADE IT HURRAY!!! I'm dead inside but getting closer to where this shit picks up gives me life tbh. We'll be there soon. There's even intense consideration of a sequel fic for funsies, but we'll see how well that turns out.
> 
> ((If there are writing mistakes, I'll give you a spoiler: i didnt proof read this chapter either i just want it out of my drafts))


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghirahim gets fuckin pissed, Cassin makes mistakes, Link sort of enjoys a sunset, and Sol is an excited puppy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GODS I'M EXCITED THIS IS WHERE SHIT GETS WILD. Hope y'all are just as excited about it.

            “I refuse.”

 

            “What do you mean, you refuse?”

 

            “I mean, I refuse. What part of ‘I refuse’ do you not understand?”

 

            “The part in which you’re refusing broth.”

 

            At this point, anger was inches from breaking the surface of his carefully laid out façade. Once again he was stuck in this more than deplorable situation. Cassin knelt in front of him, expression scrunched with annoyance and underlying frustration, and a bowl of steaming broth held tightly in her hands. Ghirahim glared back at her, trying his damnedest to keep anything more than a tense, tight lipped frown from breaking across his face. He was sitting up against the same damned bland bronze wall he had been sitting against for the past few days, right leg outstretched to the side and left leg crooked in front of him, acting as a sort of barrier between him and Cassin. She was good at creeping into his personal space, something he had made very clear he wasn’t a fan of. Even now she was too close to his leg for comfort, but at least with his leg between them he had the chance to kick her if she got too close. She seemed to have known this herself, sitting tense just in front of his leg and daring not to move closer. Good thing too. If she crept into his personal space one more time, Ghirahim wasn’t sure he could keep himself from giving himself away to the rest of the village they were situated in. Cassin tapped the bowl with an irritated finger, and Ghirahim glanced between her finger and her face.

 

             “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but-”

 

            “I can damn well tell you what’s gotten into me,” Ghirahim cut her off, arms crossing tightly over his chest. “I’ve been given nothing but broth for the past who knows how long, and if it has done anything it would have only made me feel weaker.”

 

            Cassin sneered at him, and he sneered back.

 

            “What, is it some secret weakness of yours? Never thought such a proud sword would be done in by something meant to help you.”

 

            “It is no longer helpful to my well being.”

 

            “What do you know of medicines and healing?”

 

           “I should be asking you that!”

 

            Ghirahim spit the words at her as if it was a foul taste he couldn’t free from his tongue. Hot rage was starting to wash over him, and the small frown he had let pierce his expression began to grow into an open lipped snarl. How could something that claimed to be a knowledgeable healer possibly be this thick in the head? He chided himself mentally for a brief moment amidst his rage. Of course he shouldn’t be surprised by this self proclaimed healer’s abilities. She’s only human, after all. Any human could easily be trumped by his Advisor any day. Longing threatened to sprout forwards from the chiding, but he was able to push the troublesome thoughts away when another wave of anger spread through him.

 

            “You assume that I am just like you! You assume that all I can eat like this is broth! You force nothing but broth upon me!”

 

            “I only give you broth for that is the only thing your body can handle like this!”

 

            “Don’t you interrupt me! You know not of the extents of my body and how I heal like I do!”

 

            “I am fluent in the ways of a healing body!”

 

            “Not one like mine!”

 

            “How do you know that?! How do you know I haven’t treated someone like you before?!”

 

            “Then prove it! Prove to me you’ve healed another like me!”

 

            An intense flame of satisfaction burst forth from within his gut as Cassin opened her mouth to yell back, hesitated, and shut her jaws with a sharp click. The flame was fanned as she sat there, eyes darting around as if searching for a believable lie and her lips pursed with intense thought. The longer she sat there, the more he became amused, satisfied, and enraged.

 

            “Well? What’s wrong? Prove to me you’ve treated another like me!”

 

            “I can’t!”

 

            A sharp, one syllable laugh of triumph left his throat, piercing the air thick with rage and bringing a bright bright red to Cassin’s face. That was an expression he liked on her; her face was so wrought with humiliation and anger that it looked like her skin could tear off at the seams. Cassin must have known this and she futilely looked away, only fueling his ego even more. Ghirahim let himself bathe in her embarrassment for a few moments, reveling in her silence. It wasn’t often she stopped talking long enough for Ghirahim to really enjoy himself, and he savoured every moment he could. Like all of her other silences, however, this one did not last nearly long enough.

 

            “I have experience in medicating people. Just… Just trust me on this, all right?”

 

            Her voice was softer, almost as if he had punched her in the gut and it hurt her to speak. At the very sound of her semi-defeated voice he could feel some of his lost energy return to him. Though her words were still frustrating, hearing her defeat had soothed parts of his anger.

 

            “And I implore you to trust me when I say that I know my limits far better than you do. I have countless experiences in tending to my own ailments and wounds. I know how to care for this better than you ever could.”

 

            Cassin furrowed her brows and set her jaw, something that singed Ghirahim’s patience. Seems she never learned how to agree and give in.

 

            “I still think that your body would reject anything more than broth.”

 

            “For the sake of the lords above and below, I need something more substantial than that bloody broth!”

 

            Ghirahim’s temper was quickly running short, evidenced clearly on his face in the form of a new scowl and knit brows.

 

            “You’re still too weak for more than broth.”

 

            “That is because I haven’t had a real meal in days! There is not enough in broth for it to even be remotely considered a proper meal!”

 

            “There is! You lost a lot of blood! You need to get your strength and energy back before you can start on something bigger!”

 

            “Then let me out of the damned house and I’ll find my own meal! I’ve got the energy to shout at you, and I’ve got the energy to fend for myself!”

 

             “Prove it to me then.”

 

             Now it was Cassin’s turn to be the smartass, and Ghirahim immediately regretted even mentioning it. He could talk big and act even bigger, but that was of course only in optimal conditions. Sitting weak and battered on his ass was not what he would have called optimal conditions. He is not one to back out, however. He would prove to her that he could damn well walk and stand on his own. Any self doubt or concerns he had regarding his earlier attempts and his leg were immediately pushed to the back of his mind as he shuffled himself about on the floor.

 

            Moving quickly and smoothly were not an option for him in his current state of being, but he pushed himself to try and be both. Gripping the wall he pulled his good leg underneath himself and gave a hard push. He didn’t have to look down at his leg to know it was shaking like a wilting reed in a blizzard, and he did his best to try and ignore the lack of stability in his leg. Just as quickly as he pushed himself up the nausea and vertigo he felt when he had attempted it before came rushing back, washing over him and bringing a black haze to his vision. He tried his damnedest to continue standing, breath coming in short gasps and releasing in quick bursts through his nose. He clenched his eyes shut, gritting his teeth and gripping the wall as if it were a lifeline. The world dipped and swayed beneath him once more, shifting like the raging water rapids, threatening to throw him from his feet. He fought the vertigo, knowing full well how pathetic a sight it must be to see him as such. He himself felt pathetic as he gripped the wall tight, struggling to find his balance and trying to push past the vertigo. His right leg pulsed angrily as he positioned the wounded limb beneath and attempted to apply pressure to it. The pain increased as he pressed down, but he didn’t dare stop, didn’t dare let himself be proven wrong. If there was one thing that he was, it was that he was stubborn. The pain, though still present, died down to a sharp tingling in his leg the longer he stood there, and with both feet on the ground he pulled his hand away from the wall.

 

             For one glorious moment he was standing on both legs, sturdy enough and strongly enough to be able to push the pain away with a wash of pride. His moment didn’t last long when he swayed away from the wall and staggered, falling heavy onto his right foot as he shifted. A new burst of pain, this one searing from his knee all the way and down his leg and scorching his torso. He could hear the bowl of broth clatter on the ground, the contents splashing, as a set of hands grabbed at his wrist and shoulder. He was quick to pull his hand out of Cassin’s grip and even quicker to lean back, letting his head thump dully against the wall and his back slump into it. Quite suddenly his energy left him, and his body felt as though it was filling with lead. He was tired and heavy, and through the mist of exhaustion he opened his eyes to glare at Cassin, voice feeling scratched from his efforts.

 

            “Don’t touch me. I can handle myself.”

 

            “Obviously you can’t. You can hardly stand on that leg of yours without it giving out from underneath you. You need to rest.”

 

            She reached her hands out to him again, face written with terrified concern. Her concern made him sick to his stomach, and he knocked her hands away with a sloppy swat of his own. The concern on her face quickly turned to frustration and he couldn’t help the sneer that covered his face. Again with her unnecessary invasion of his personal space. He could see it in her eyes, believing it was a necessary action to help him. He was fine! He didn’t need some human lurking around him, waiting for him to fall just so she could pull him back up onto his feet again. He is more than capable of doing so on his own without any sort of outside help.

 

            “Ghirahim, you need to rest.”

 

            “I need something better than broth.”

 

            “Are you seriously still arguing about the broth?! Are you kidding me?!”

 

            “‘Are you seriously still arguing about the broth?!’”

 

            Cassin’s face started to twist with anger, something that made Ghirahim’s gut churn in the most pleasurable of ways. Seems that was all it took at this point to push her buttons, and push her buttons he shall.

 

            “Do you hear yourself? That is exactly what you sound like. Nasally and grating on the ears. You sound like a damned fool shrieking at the top of their lungs like that.”

 

            “You sound like someone hit you too hard in the throat and tossed you off a cliff!”

 

            “Is it really that noticeable?”

 

            For a moment genuine fear and guilt crossed Cassin’s face, but it was soon washed away by rage when Ghirahim gave her a snarling laugh.

 

            “You gullible dolt! Of course being punched in the throat didn’t make me sound like this, I was tempered like this!”

 

            “You over pompous windbag! We took you in when you were on the verge of death!”

 

            “Doesn’t it really make you regret being selfless sometimes?”

 

            “Sit down and shut up! Just rest your body before you hurt yourself more!”

 

            A laugh, rattling and forceful, shook his chest. He almost didn’t recognize it as his own, having believed it was the laugh of another’s. It seemed to startle Cassin as well, as a marginal amount of the anger drained from her face. He pushed away his own surprise to stand up and away from the wall, body still swaying in time with the world around him.

 

            “I don’t need as much help as you seem to think I do. I am not as fragile as you humans are.”

 

            “That doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t be walking around like this. It isn’t good for the body.”

 

            “Did you even bloody listen to me?”

 

            A hardened look crossed Cassin’s face, one that knocked at his stubborn refusal. Already he knew what was going to happen, and he wasn’t about to have any of it. Cassin reached out her hands, no doubt attempting to help Ghirahim sit back down. With what little energy he had left he shot his hand out. Hearing Cassin yelp in such a way soothed his churning stomach. That’s better, that’s much better. He tightened his grip on her wrist, bones beginning to splinter and crack under the force. Cassin whimpered and tugged, and he squeezed even harder. Warmth began to spread beneath his hand, slowly spreading and oozing down his hand and both of their arms. A sharp bone shard poked at the meat of his own hand and he relaxed his grip, holding her crushed wrist firmly in his hand. Cassin had already deflated, entire body shaking and trying not to curl into herself. Such a beautiful sight.

 

            “I warned you about touching me, didn’t I?”

 

            Cassin didn’t respond, eyes still fixated on her own wrist. A chuckle rattled through his body and gripped her wrist tighter once more. She winced and grit her teeth, eyes flying shut from the pain.

 

            “I distinctly remember making it clear that I did not like those who forced themselves too close. Or was I not forceful enough for you?”

 

            “Wh-What the hell is wrong with you?!”

 

            Her question was hissed under her breath, almost too lowly for him to hear, but it mattered little to him. He was sick of this, hiding away in this boring house with nothing to do and nothing to see. A pang of something blasted through him, urging him to release her wrist, but he easily ignored it. He would acknowledge her and her abilities to bring him back from the verge of death, but beyond that she was meaningless. He raised her hand over his head, drawing her closer without much a fuss. He leaned down closer, close enough to breath into her ear.

 

            “It doesn’t matter now. I’ll make you understand how much I value my personal space.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

  
  
  


            He regretted running off with the other knight yesterday. Had he not been there at the commotion, he could have continued having that light, joyous, carefree feeling. He could have felt happy and contented with his life like the rest of the villagers do every day. He could have been soaring above the clouds again, flying like nothing mattered with his bird like he used to. He could have been sleeping, or relaxing, or maybe even reading or whittling. If only he hadn’t gone to deal with the problem, then he would have been happy again. But of course, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to ignore it. He was still too scared of something happening to the village if he took a day off. He had no duties again today, but he found he couldn’t relax. It was too much all at once. More tribes of people living on the surface, strangers showing up out of the blue, and then the strangers asking to stay the night. There were too many things wrong with what had happened yesterday.

 

            Once more he ran his whetstone over the lifeless blade on his lap, listening to the sing song of stone scratching metal to a sharp edge. There wasn’t much he could do here, sitting atop a hill near the Goddess Statue. From here he could see a good majority of the village, including the spot where the three strangers had settled and were still resting. Three little specks of black sitting beneath the mottled grey and green of a tree. None of them seemed to be moving, most likely sleeping as long as their bodies would allow them to or talking amongst one another. Another song of stone on steel.

 

            The three of them hadn’t asked for anything after they had settled down under the tree. No request for food or water, not request for blankets, nothing. All they had done was sit and talk and sleep, rarely acknowledging those who did nothing to initiate a conversation. He had heard from the other knights that they had even turned down food and water and blankets when the night grew cold. They didn’t want anything that they had to give. Something about that really made him worried. Why wouldn’t they accept free food and drink, especially after travelling as long as they had claimed to? Wouldn’t it have better to request some more rations to help on the rest of their journey? Maybe it was out of courtesy to their hosts, but that still didn’t explain why they continued to say no even after the hundredth time someone offered them food. Something wasn’t right about these people. The song of stone on steel.

 

            Why did they hide their faces? What was so horrible about their faces that they felt the need to hide them beneath fabric, masks, mesh and black pigments? Thick black pants and shirts that were better for keeping out the cold of snow hid any kind of hint of what they were like underneath their cloaks. Were they strong and bulky? Lean and swift? Thin and sickly? There was too much fabric to tell. The cloaks weren’t much better either, hiding even more of their non existent forms. It draped oddly around their clothes and their bodies, bunching up thickly around necks and over heads until it hooked onto masks. And the masks, why did they wear those masks? Neither of them looked particularly functional. The crow mask couldn’t have provided much visibility and was impractical. The beak was polished to a gleam, silver and sparkling in the light. No doubt it would have been easy to spot that from a mile away for person and wildlife alike. And Sol’s mask as well. It had to have been a heavy mask, being made of white marble and what he could assume was sandstone and obsidian. It must have weighed a hundred pounds, it didn’t have any holes poked in that nose for easier breathing, and no doubt it would have been killer on the neck. For what reason could Sol possibly need a mask like that? Stone on steel.

 

            Past the song of whetstone on steel he could hear a flock of the surface’s small birds gathering to his right. They were singing and scratching at the earth, digging for worms no doubt. Around him the trees rustled with a light breeze that carried a tinge of the lurking cold. Autumn would no doubt be here soon, and the world around him seemed to be preparing as much as their little bodies could. Even the villagers were preparing, drying meats and vegetables, flying seeds of sturdier crops up into the sky to plant on Skyloft, just in case the winter was worse than they expected. What livestock they had were being shifted over into pens made to handle the winter better than summer pens, and the crops they had now were being harvested. Something deep inside him was surprised to see the world preparing itself for the bitterest season of them all with such ease. How was it that he hadn’t noticed the world working for itself as such? How did such progression pass him by without him noticing it? A deep drawn out sigh escaped his lungs in time with another scrape of his stone against steel.

 

            “Is there something bothering you, Link?”

 

            The unknown voice startled him out of his thoughts and he looked over his shoulder, heart racing from the sudden scare. An older knight in red, the one who had been there with him in the ashes of the forest, was strolling towards him. He still couldn’t recall the other’s name, but pushed it away as the other knight came over to sit beside him. His eyes were trained on him curiously, almost as if he knew that Link was hiding something, and he knew he couldn’t hide it for long. Link sighed again, this time shorter and quieter than the first, and nodded.

 

            “Feeling a little nervous with strangers on the edge of the village.”

 

            “I heard what happened yesterday. I only just met them today while I was on my patrol, but they don’t seem so bad.”

 

            To that Link could only offer a meager shrug. He cast his eyes down at his blade, focusing on sharpening it with his whetstone. He sat silently beside him, though from the way he could hear the other fidget with his tunic and the edges of his gloves, Link could tell that there was something bothering him as well. Link cast a curious sideways glance at him, catching his eyes at just the same time before looking back down at his blade. The other seemed to take that as a cue to ask his own questions.

 

            “Can you believe it? Other humans living on the surface. Who could have ever dreamed of such a thing.”

 

            Link have a half hearted grunt, trying at least to seem interested in what the other had to say. Link had known about other humans on the surface thanks to his journey, but he had omitted a strong portion of his stories to the rest of the public. He really just didn’t want to talk about the surface in general. As beautiful as it was Link wasn’t entirely fond of some of the memories he had on the surface.

 

            “Hey I… I know you’re not a big fan of talking about your travels, but I was wondering about it. Like, did you like it down here when you first found out about it?”

 

            Nervous and uncertain, Link gave a small nod. He couldn’t lie about the surface to him, let alone anyone else. He’d rather not speak of it, but he couldn’t lie that he thought it was wonderful. Clouds soaring above them, the dynamic weather, the way life seemed to pass by on the surface unaware of what hung above them. The surface had fascinated him and brought him great joy. It was dangerous and unpredictable, yes, but beautiful and joyous nonetheless. He could only assume the residents who have moved to the surface thought the same of it, with all of the wonders it held that were too big to be seen on Skyloft.

 

            “Was there something about it that you liked the best?”

 

            He was still nervous to ask him these things, and he was still too nervous to give a vocal answer. He offered up a halfhearted shrug, eyes fixed to his blade like his life depended on it. The voice of the other only continued to get more hesitant.

 

            “What… What was the scariest monster you faced?”

 

            “Demon King…”

 

            Link startled himself with his own admittance, his voice sounding a little more frail that he perhaps had meant it to. Trying to cover up what might have been come across as a weakness, he gave another half hearted shrug.

 

            “Someone I met on my journey told me once that the Demon King could use your fear against you, and could make himself into something that looked different to everyone…”

 

            With his voice already stronger in speaking of the dreaded king, a form of relief began to pool in his gut. Maybe things were getting a little better for him. Unfortunately for him, however, the other had been captivated by the slight description and had turned his body to fully face Link. Link didn’t need to look up to know that the other was staring at him with awe and curiosity, a look he didn’t want to deal with.

 

            “What did he look like for you?”

 

            Wincing, Link worked up his courage to answer him.

 

            “I… I don’t know if it was his true form, or if he was pandering to my own fears…”

 

            A moment of hesitance washed over him, capturing the other in it’s wake, before Link shook his head.

 

            “Three times taller than me, a little too muscular for comfort, black scales everywhere, fire from his head… Red and orange eyes… Demon King was a fitting title, I think.”

 

            For a moment, there was silence. The flock of birds to his right had flown off, the breeze had come to a halt, and the sounds that were carried from the village on the wind died off as well. The only thing breaking the silence was the sound of crickets coming to life and the song of his whetstone scraping along the edge of his blade. Even the knight beside him was silent, the gristly beard brushing against the fingers that rubbed his chin. The momentary silence, no matter how coincidental, was a welcome reprieve from questions and sound. It didn’t last long, but it was long enough for Link to regain any nerves he lost describing the Demon King.

 

            “Did you meet any other humans on the surface before we all came here?”

 

            To that one, Link was happy to confirm with a quick nod. He didn’t need to hear the other’s follow up question to know what he was going to ask next.

 

            “There was a woman down here. Her name was Impa. It was a nice break from running all over the place to come by and speak with her. She made her home in the Sealed Temple, as she called it.”

 

            “What did she look like?”

 

            Link stopped sharpening his blade for a moment, concentrating on what Impa looked like. It had only been two years, and he was already forgetting her face? Had she still lived Link had no doubt she would scold him for forgetting her face, old or young.

 

            “She was tall too. Tall and lean, and really strong. She had light hair, and dark eyes. Lots of energy too. When she was hurt it seemed like only a week or so before she was running around at full strength again. She was a good friend.”

 

            “Did she have any other defining features?”

 

             The question struck Link as odd. Why would he be worried about other defining features? But after a moment’s hesitation he brushed it off as simple curiosity. Impa was one of the nicer aspects of his journey, and he figured that if he were telling people anything, they would want to know all about it. 

 

             “Not much, I don’t think. Painted or… or tattooed, I think? Had markings on her face around her eyes and forehead. She was good at magic, too.”

 

            “She sounds like she was pretty cool.”

 

            Link couldn’t help the snort that left him and returned to sharpening his blade, running the whetstone along the opposite side.

 

            “More like cold. When she was scolding us she spoke like her heart had been frozen over, and her words hurt like someone had poked us with a hot iron. But she was kind when we weren’t messing up the parts we played in our journeys.”

 

            That seemed to have brought a laugh out of the other knight, one that echoed through his body and burst from his mouth so forcefully it tossed his head back.

 

            “Well, it sounds like she was just worried about you.”

 

            Link nodded his agreement.

 

            “She was a good friend, even when she was giving us a tongue lashing.”

 

            Both him and the other fell into another silence, this one more comfortable than the first. The wind had picked up again, carrying the sounds of the village around them once more as birds and owls and crickets and distant wolves began to sing. The sun was beginning to set, the sky streaked with the first few rays of purple and orange. Link relaxed, absentminded with his whetstone, and enjoyed the warm glow the sun cast across the land. Despite the coolness of approaching winter and night, it was just warm enough to still be comfortable. The dread and fear in his systems had seemed to drain away as he spoke with the other, and it was nice to feel this level of comfort once again. It was the kind that he had been yearning for all day, and he’d be damned if he wouldn’t enjoy the last few hours of it. After some time the other knight stood and stretched himself out, brushing any dirt on the back of his tunic. Link glanced up at him and away from the village as he did so.

 

            “I think I’m going to head home. We both have an early morning patrol tomorrow, don’t we? Best we get our rest.”

 

            Link gave another nod, setting his whetstone down and grabbing a rag that he had hung on his belt hours prior.

 

            “I’ll head home soon. I think I might enjoy the sunset for a little bit longer.”

 

            “I hope you have a good night, Link.”

 

            “Same to you.”

 

            With a smile piercing his dark beard he waved a farewell to Link before slowly descending down the hill, no doubt to his own abode in the village. For a second Link thought about his dorm in the Knight Academy. He would have to move out soon so another knight could take his place. He was what, nineteen now? Twenty? Sometimes he forgot just how old he had become, and would sheepishly ask Zelda if she remembered. She’d always tell him with a laugh and a smile how old he was, no matter how many times he asked. That should be old enough to get a house built for himself.

 

            His thoughts soon shifted to Zelda. Maybe he should pay her a visit tonight? They hadn’t spoken in two days, and that was certainly unlike them. Perhaps they could take a quick night flight together in the open skies before they went to bed? That would be a nice way to end the already stressful day. Nodding to himself, Link stood himself up and began walking back to the academy, stone and blade in hand and the setting sun against his back.

 

* * *

* * *

 

  
  
  


            Fangs glistened sharply in the darkness, a sticky mixture of spittle and blood falling from them as the owner twirled around. White patterns etched into skin glowed as brightly as white eyes, blood spattering against them and masking bits of light. Something in the darkness fought back, swinging and slicing as fast and as hard as they could. The silver of the blade glinted just as fangs did, leaving trails of light in their wakes as they leapt, lunged, and danced. In the dead of night where little light pierced the shutters on the windows, white and silver, black and red clashed. A blade fell down from above, meant to cleave the intruder in half. The blade was knocked away effortlessly, bouncing off of an arm without even leaving the hints of a scuff. The sound echoed in the room, the noise tinny and distant as if it had been heard through wooden block. Fangs lunged forwards, extended towards a throat like a snake’s. Fangs met metal and bit down, sliding uselessly off of the steel and being thrown backwards.

 

            The owner skid back, the floor slick with splatters of blood, and crashed back into an overturned table. The beast wheezed and snarled, the softer flesh of the mouth bleeding where it had been cut by the blade. The owner of the blade charged the unbalanced foe, raising their blade to swing again. The beast leapt back over the table and ducked down behind it, crouching on all fours as the blade came splintering down into the table. The blade halted just before it hit their head, and they scrambled to the left on all fours, pushing off with the power of a frog and the agility of a fox. The owner of the blade struggled, planting a foot on the table and trying to wretch their blade free of the wood that held it trapped. The beast, out of the way and already on their feet again lunged once more, fingers outstretched like claws and fangs bared for the throat.

 

               A leg from the table that had been broken off in their scuffle was brought up and used to bash the beast right in the chin, jaw snapping shut on a tongue that had begun to stick out from both exhaustion and hunger. The beast didn’t dare cry out it’s pain, but instead staggered backwards, temporarily disoriented and struggling to regain their bearings. The owner of the blade whipped the splintering table leg at the beast, knocking it square in the head again. It staggered again, giving them enough time to rip their blade out of the table. Arm numbing from the strength of the fight, the owner of the blade charged once more, this time going to stab the beast in the gut. Disoriented and head ringing, the beast just barely managed to dodge the strike. No doubt it would have pierced their flesh and cut right through them. They hissed at the owner of the blade and grabbed hold of their arm as tightly as they could. Flesh squelched and bone cracked under the force, ripping a scream from the owner of the blade. Before all movement was lost in their arm they switched their blade to their other hand and twirled, yanking the beast forwards and swinging for their spine. The beast dove with the momentum, ducking beneath the swing and skidding across the ground. Fingers dug into the floorboards like a cat’s claws and they pivoted on all fours, righting themselves to face the other. They had raised their blade above their head once more, one arm hanging uselessly at their side. Light flashed off the blade just fast enough to illuminate eyes filled with rage, mourning, and a kind of bloodthirst the beast hadn’t seen in a long time.

 

            Without thinking the beast dodged to the side, tripping over a body in the darkness. They tumbled across the floor, chased closely by the owner of the blade. They scrambled back onto all fours and launched themself at the wall. As soon as hands and feet hit the wall the beast pushed off as hard as they could, twisting in midair to face their attacker. The light flashed off of their blade and once again briefly illuminated their face in the darkness. A new emotion had bloomed in their eyes, one the beast feasted upon as time seemed to slow. Fear. Everything came crashing down as the beast landed atop the owner of the blade. Fangs sank into flesh, and flesh beat wildly on their head and back and arms and gut. A blade came down once more upon the beast, the edge slicing through flesh.

 

            Without warning he jolted awake, pushing off of the tree he had been leaning on and planting his hands onto the soft earth beneath him. A sound akin to a roar must have left him, as his companions had flinched and turned towards him, fear clearly written in their stances. Breathing hard and with eyes adjusting to the light, he looked around, somewhat confused by his surroundings for a moment. The world had been silenced by his sudden outburst, the songs of crickets and birds gone. Looking between his two companions and his hands on the earth he soon pieced together the information he had now and the information he had taken from his dream. It was early in the morning, the light of dawn just beginning to wash over the village and trees. Birds and crickets soon resumed their song, and the wind picked up. Faintly on it’s wake, the stench of blood hit his nose. Quietly, Nilr spoke to him.

 

            “Sol, were you having a nightmare?”

 

            “Krl’Desh.”

 

            “Krl’Desh?”

 

            Loh tilted his head, clearly confused by his statement.

 

            “Krl’Desh… Krl’Desh is alive.”

 

            Excitement bubbled up underneath his skin so quickly he couldn’t control himself. He leapt to his feet, Nilr and Loh following his lead not even seconds after. The nearby knights of the village perked up at the sight of them getting up so quickly, but Sol paid them no mind. His mind was ablaze with static. Without warning he bolting, following the metallic stench of blood on the breeze. Nilr and Loh were close behind, seeming to have understood what he meant, and the knight were hot on their trail. Sol was sure of it now. Krl’Desh was alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Ghirahim came across as a little too rapey but like. I wouldn't ever use rape as a plot device. If any of you think it's unclear, I'll outright say it now: he's straight murdering. No rape or defiling, just ya know. Murder. So yeah hope y'all were kinda into it cause this is where things are supposed to pick up a bit more.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I rated this Mature for a reason, and it is not of the sexual kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously my dudes, if you aren't into gore or get fairly queasy over it, there is some gore hanging around near the beginning and end of it. So you can't say I didn't warn you.

            She hadn’t felt this in a while. It had been perhaps a week or so since this feeling of dread had hit her so hard in the gut. Virtually nothing was different about this morning. If anything, this was exactly how many of her past mornings had gone. Birds outside singing, crickets still chirping, the pale light of dawn beginning to slant through the blinds of her window. Inside her room it was warm and dark, dust shining softly as it hung in the illuminated air. Beside her Link was snoring softly, snuggled up under the covers and undisturbed. There had been no nightmares for him last night, and they had been too lazy to go their separate ways after their night flight. For the most part he was a silhouette against the faint light, the many scars on his exposed arm and shoulder catching it in odd ways. Outside the door was the sound of people shuffling, quietly making their way through the halls as they head off to their own duties or returned to their beds for the day. Nothing about this morning was much different than any of her other mornings. So why did she feel as if she were being crushed by an unbearable dread?

         A knock came from outside, light and rapping on the door before whoever it was wandered off down the halls, no doubt doing the same to other knights. They were to join early morning patrols today. Something compelled her to stay inside, to hide away in her room with Link until the dread evaporated. It was not strong enough to stop her from getting up anyways. She gave Link a light shake, shoving at his shoulders until he cracked an eye open and whined. He soon threw his arm over his eyes, and a smile slipped past her dread. Just like he used to be on Skyloft. Two days off had already done wonders for him.

         Sitting up and stretching, Zelda took one more curious glance around the room. Its normality didn’t soothe her rising dread at all. Crawling out from under the blankets she stood herself up, trying to jostle Link as little as possible. He whined again anyways, pulling the covers up over his head and burying beneath them as best he could in his half awake state. She’d let him rest a little bit longer before she got mean. Zelda slipped out of her night shirt and sluggishly began pulling herself into her tunic, straightening it out and dusting it off as she went. She’d have to do some cleaning in her room before the weather was too cold to let her air out her room.

            By the time Zelda was fastening her belts around her torso and waist, Link decided that he would get up on his own for once and sat himself up, the blankets falling off of him as he swung his legs to hang off the edge of the bed. He had opted to wear his socks and pants all through the night, finding it warmer and more convenient to sleep in it than putting on pyjamas. At least he was halfway dressed already. After a quick mumbling of good morning, Zelda returned to her tunic, fixing the way it sat beneath the belt and fastening her essentials to it. Small pouch of bandages, a bottle of red potion, her sword and shield, bow and quiver, and her sailcloth all neatly tucked away in or on her belts. Link was close behind, fixing up his own belts and weapons. She watched him fumble with the buckles as she dusted off her cap, his fingers still clumsy with sleep. He seemed as if he were falling asleep standing up, and her dread was momentarily replaced with worry. Would he be all right with only two days of rest? The thought was quickly pushed aside as he managed to fasten his items to his belts and grab his hat. He too dusted his off, and within moments of one another they donned their caps. For a moment there was silence between them, Link looking at her while she looked at him. Neither said anything for a while, but Link was the first to break the silence.

            “Do you feel it too?”

            Zelda could only offer him a nod. She felt it too. A dread so heavy that it could drown those who dared swim with it. Hearing that Link seemed to have felt it as well brought her no relief. It only solidified her belief that something terrible was happening. It wasn’t unusual for one of them to have some kind of worrisome and suffocating anticipation, but both of them waking up and feeling it was enough for Zelda. If there was a chance that they could slip away during their patrols today, she had no doubt that they would take it without hesitation. There had to be something to investigate if they both felt it as horribly as they did.

            Zelda had been too deep in her thoughts to notice that Link had wandered to the door. She jumped when she heard the click of a door opening, and glancing at Link who was already halfway out of the door, she hurried to catch up with him. She slipped out behind him and shut her door, trotting up alongside him to walk down the halls with him. Neither of them spoke, Link’s eyes glued to the hall before him and she herself looking around closely at the hall. Everything out here seemed fine as well. Knights were shuffling to and from their rooms, some more ragged and exhausted than others. Paintings and plants lined the bronzed halls and some room doors were left open, knights talking with one another or playing cards on their days off. Momentarily she felt regret for not asking for the days off with Link. She’d been jittery before, and feeling this kind of dread now only worsened it. It was almost surreal here, wandering through normal halls while feeling so off. The way Link shuffled beside her like the undead told her he felt the same. It wouldn’t be soon enough for either of them once they got outside.

            Out in the courtyard before the academy stood at least a dozen knights, each in varying colours of tunics and heights. Everyone stood in loose rows, all facing Eagus who stood upon a slab of stone, elevating him higher than the rest so he could see all of the gathered knights. He hardly paid them mind as they hurried down the stairs and rushed to join the group. Link split off from Zelda, moving towards a group of other knights in yellows and greens while she joined a group of knights in reds and blues. Something felt off about her gathering of knights, almost as if there had been parts missing. She tried to pay it no mind as she turned to face Eagus. He stood there in silence, gentle eyes running across the assembled knights as if he were taking tally of them all. The silence around them was almost deafening, loud enough that she almost missed what Eagus said when his eyes landed on the group she was in.

            “Where are Cassin and Vireo?”

            A rock dropped in her stomach. At least she had been right about something missing. She looked around at her group, scanning faces for the missing knights. Just like Eagus said, neither of them were anywhere in the assembled group. A brief second her eyes caught Link’s as she turned back to face Eagus. His face had lost its colour and his eyes reflected a type of worry that seeding in her gut as well. It was unlike the two to be late for anything, both priding themselves on being a few minutes early to whatever gathering was being had. Still, she attempted to push the worry away. They were grown adults, in a relationship no less. Who was to say that they hadn’t slept in? Just as her eyes reached Eagus, the Knight Commander was already waving to a knight in Link’s gathering.

            “Passeri, could you please fetch Vireo and Cassin from their home?”

            A young knight with red hair dressed and no older than Link nodded and turned, jogging off towards the village. Zelda watched her go, eyes lingering on the green tunic she wore before looking back to Eagus. He was already calling to them, gathering their wandering attention before he began speaking of their duties today. Zelda already knew what they were doing today. She had read the boards within the academy the night before to find out her work for today. They were to go back to the ash wastes and check on the plants they had seeded before they were to patrol the area around it. Link had expressed his disappointment the night before when they had checked. He wasn’t a fan of spreading more fertilizer for the plants, but he had agreed that perhaps it was for the best. Zelda had been assigned the heavy duty patrols. She and a few other groups of knights were to patrol the edges and surrounding areas in wide looping patterns. Eagus seemed to at least have taken Link’s outburst seriously enough to assign patrols, however convinced the commander was that it was just paranoia brought on by a concussion. He knew better than to outright ignore his knights, always looking for a way to make things better and to improve their safety. The only thing Zelda could think of was her wish to be home again in bed. She didn’t want to know what was out there, potentially feeding her the unbearable anticipation she felt.

            Someone elbowed her lightly on the arm, and she jolted out of her thoughts. Eagus and several others were staring at her expectantly, waiting for her to answer a question she had been too lost in thought to hear. Red creeping onto the tips of her ears, she offered Eagus an embarrassed smile.

            “I’m sorry, Commander. I was a little lost in thought for a moment there. Could you repeat the question again?”

            Eagus gave her a nod, an ever patient smile gracing his face. He had never been one to be harsh on knights who had missed what had been said.

            “Are there any monsters that we should be aware of and alert for during this patrol?”

            “A Furnix,” she spoke, glancing in Link’s direction. He gave her a nod of confirmation and mouthed the name of another two monsters, ones she knew well enough. “A Wolfos, and a Lizalfos.”

            “Would you be willing to give us a reminder on how to spot each of them?”

            Zelda gave him a hesitant nod, trying her best to recall the stories of Furnix that Link had shared with her.

            “A Furnix is a large bird, about half the size of our own Loftwings. They are only red, orange, and yellow in plumage, and each has a long tail made of what seems to be muscle and feathers. They’re usually flying or high in trees. Be wary of any unknown or unfamiliar bird calls.”

            She took a quick glance at Link out of the corner of her eye, catching the movement of a nod from him. Seems she recalled them correctly. Wolfos and Lizalfos would be a breeze.

            “Most knights have encountered a Wolfos. They are bigger than the standard wolf, usually greys and browns in colour during the spring, summer, and fall, and a stark white in the winter. They are larger than normal wolves, they do not posses pupils, and they have large front claws. They are the only known species to be both quadrupedal and bipedal.”

            This time she glanced at Eagus, who gave her a nod as well. Some of the newer knights, ones donned in this year’s blue and last year’s yellow, had yet to encounter such a beast in the wild. Eagus liked to stress the importance of being able to identify an enemy before encountering one.

            “A Lizalfos is a large reptile, one who stands on two legs and is about as tall as our tallest knights. Usually green in colour, Lizalfos with the rarer black colouration can be found. Green Lizalfos are more common, are agile, and are likely to ambush people in pairs. Black Lizalfos are rare and fight alone. They are just as deadly as a pair of Green Lizalfos. Be wary of any unknown humanoid figures and any unnatural hissing sounds.”

            “And always confirm that they are Lizalfos, and not your fellow knights dressed in green or navy.”

            A soft murmur of yessir moved throughout the gathered knights as Eagus cut in. Relieved that her own personal quizzing was over, Zelda watched and listened as Eagus began to describe the finer details of their duties today. They were to reach the ashes by the time the sun was above the canopy of the trees, and they were to stop in their patrols and return home once the sun was hanging directly above them in the sky. Each knight was to report back to the knight in charge of their patrol, and each knight in charge was to report to either him, Owlan, or Horwell of their completed duties. Zelda was about to float back into her own thoughts when a panicked yell reached her ears.

            All the gathered knights were suddenly on edge, some drawing their blades, other’s reaching to unsheathe them. Link was among the few who had his sword and shield out, while Zelda gripped the hilt of hers tightly in preparation. As quickly as the yell had come, Passeri came sprinting back to the courtyard, wheezing for her breath and making her way past the alerted knights. She ran to Eagus as each knight focused on either her or the entrance of the courtyard. Zelda’s gaze was transfixed to her, body slowly feeling more and more hollow as the seconds ticked by. Passeri skid to a stop before Eagus, struggling to catch her breath and keep her balance. Eagus made quick work of stepping off the stone to support her, murmuring to her in a soft, comforting voice. Passeri couldn’t match his tone, wailing at the top of her lungs.

            “Th-They-They’re dead! C-Cassin and Vi-Vireo are dead!”

            Zelda’s blood immediately ran cold. For a moment there was nothing but a stunned silence, none of the knights daring to move. Link was the first to move, sprinting out of the courtyard and into the village. Zelda was close behind him, running as fast as she could after him. Eagus was shouting something to the other knights, but his voice grew too distant to hear as she and Link raced down the paths and through the village. This was it. This was what had made them both feel so ill this morning. This was the bad thing that was going to happen, the event that had them feeling so worried for so long. Parts of Zelda denied it, desperately hoping that the young knight had seen things incorrectly, that she was lying. The rest of her knew it was true. There was no way that level of emotion, that extent of fear was a façade.

            It didn’t take them long to arrive at Vireo and Cassin’s house. Link continued his sprint towards it, ignoring all those who were gathered around it. Zelda however slowed to a stop, breath coming in short, sharp heaves as she wandered closer. The trio of strangers that had shown up the day before were standing a few feet away from the house, the knights who had been assigned to watch them with them. Other knights had begun to gather, relaying information back and forth from one another before running off, no doubt to inform the other knights on patrols around the edges of the village. Zelda approached them first, a new feeling of anticipation welling up within her gut. Sol, Nilr and Loh seemed to notice her first and looked over at her, a reaction that made her even more nervous. The knights looked to her when the trio did, seemingly relieved to see another familiar face. As she approached to speak with them, Sol cut in, seemingly already knowing what her question would be.

            “Friends of yours? They are dead. Not a pretty sight, if smell means anything. Killed during the night no doubt. Do not know who is killer yet. Guards have yet to let us in.”

            Zelda looked to the knights for confirmation. Their solemn faces and colourless faces said everything she needed to know. Before she could ask for more information Zelda caught sight of Link exiting the house, staggering and stumbling away from the door. She hurried towards him, outstretching her hands in a gesture to help balance him. He shook his head, sagging where he stood and gripping his sword and shield tight. He too had lost all colour in his face, and his eyes were wide and unstaring. Dread and fear looped coils around her stomach and squeezed, making it harder and harder for her to catch her breath. As much as she would have liked to deny it, the confirmation of the masses told her all. Link glanced behind her, eyes beginning to look wet, and she glanced over her shoulder herself. The trio was approaching the house, each of them lowering their stances and hunching over like cats stalking their prey. Before Zelda could call out to them, to warn them from entering, Sol stepped inside with Nilr and Loh hot on his heels. With a quick glance at Link she hurried in behind them, stomach tighter than she had ever felt it. Unused to the dark inside of the house, Zelda followed close behind the three, using them as guides into the darkness while her eyes adjusted. She soon wished that they hadn’t adjusted. 

            Blood had been spattered and smeared all across the ground as if someone had slid through it. Furniture had been overturned and smashed, the doors just barely clinging to their hinges, pictures and frames destroyed, shelves just barely standing. Amongst the damaged goods, the table was the worst off with a huge gash in the centre of it and missing three out of four legs. Behind a thrown chair no doubt a body, and from the looks of the blood shed and the way organs lay farther than naturally from the body, the sight of the entire mess would be horrifying. Sinew and entrails scattered about like soft, semi flattened pillows was more than enough for her stomach to do tight somersaults. Adjacent to the stinking corpse behind the chair was yet another body, one that Zelda recognized instantly. It was Vireo, laying on his back and eyes facing the sky. His expression had already begun to soften, one that was once rage and fear slowly turning to slack-jawed indifference. Had his neck and stomach not been torn open she could almost have mistaken him for cloud gazing. Parts of his throat lacked muscle, torn agape and sagging. Surprisingly, there was very little blood there, and what little there was appeared to have been smeared and sloppily wiped away. With his tunic pulled to shreds at the front , it was clear that his torso was no different, flesh missing without reason and what was left of ribs exposed. He seemed to have been in better condition than what she could only assume was Cassin’s body, and even that was saying a lot.

            Unable to look at the bodies any longer, Zelda let her eyes move to the trio. Nilr was inspecting the bodies very carefully, seeming to note and measure how guts were tossed, how the bodies were torn, and the way the bodies lay. Loh was far less interested in the bodies, instead glancing around at the house. Sol himself had knelt down in a puddle of blood, seemingly inspecting something hidden behind his body very closely. Cautious yet curious, Zelda shuffled her way towards him, trying her damnedest to block out the sight and smell of the carnage around them. Hearing her, Sol looked up and turned towards her, amber eyes glinting in the darkness. In his hands he held bandages, some soaked in blood, others dabbled with it, and the rest covered in the sharp smell of rust and alcohol. 

            “Were your friends known to house wounded creatures?”

            Zelda could only shake her head in response to his question. He sounded distant, almost as if he had been speaking lowly to her from across the room instead of directly in front of her. Sol stood up, the bandages still hanging limp in his hands. Her eyes never left Sol’s as they seemed to be the only things in the room that wasn’t covered in gore.

            “Do you have knowledge of what could have done this?”

            Once more she shook her head. Something about his voice hinted to her that he might have known something about this events here. Instead he let his eyes break away from hers to look down at the bandages. For a moment amidst the silence there was a deep rush of air, a sound almost akin to sniffing. And then the noise was gone, and Sol had turned his attention back to Nilr. She watched, dazed and silent where she was as he called to her in a gruff and urgent voice. The crow masked woman looked up and was soon standing next to him, intently listening to Sol as he rumbled in his native tongue. Something about their language struck several wrong chords within her. She didn’t have much time to mull over it as Nilr took the bandages and left, bounding out of the house and turning sharply towards the forest. She could see several knights give chase after her through the windows. Her attention was brought back to Sol as he spoke again, this time to Loh, and he too was soon out of the house. It was then Sol returned his attention to her, amber eyes piercing and commanding.

            “Will not be easy to say or do, but your people must leave these here. You cannot touch the items within this place, nor your friends.”

            Zelda opened her mouth to object, to protest on leaving the two where they lay like they were nothing more than a half eaten squirrel. Sol raised one black gloved hand, stopping her in her tracks.

            “I know they mean much to you. You and I are different breeds, and it is hard to understand. But to find your killer you must trust us. Out of sincerity we will assist you, as price for allowing our stay. But you must trust us. Convince them. Do not shift them. We have an idea as to what they are.”

            Mesmerized by amber, Zelda just barely forced herself to nod. His voice held no lies, and hid nothing in his tone. He was genuine. Something inside her screamed at her to ignore him, to take care of the deceased and to track down the one that killed them. But a part of her knew sitting and waiting was the way to go if they wished to find their beast tonight. The hard part would be convincing the rest of the knights to agree. With her agreement, Sol bowed his own head, breaking their eye contact, and turned for the door.

            “Nilr and I will try to intercept. Guard your friends. If it is what we think, you will see it tonight.”

            And without another word he fled the house, leaving Zelda to stand and stare at the door after him. She hoped she hadn’t made a mistake in trusting him.

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            Trees blew past him, nothing more than passing motion. Undergrowth nipped at his legs and heels, attempting to snag him and trip him. He easily stepped through them, each stride powerful enough to snap the thin trailing branches. Crisp grass and fallen leaves crunched and crackled underfoot while the smell of trees, of wind, or life surged past him. The wind howled in his ears, branches that were low enough clawing at his face and unkempt hair Despite running full speed, breathing in hard and deep with each stride, a coarse, cackling laugh was able to break free of his chest and echo out his mouth. He could stand. He could run. He could  _ breathe _ . He could move without nausea tearing him down, he could stand without vertigo swinging the world about beneath him. He hadn’t been injured for long, but the strength of the joy he felt now as he swerved and dashed through the trees had surprised him. He was acting as if he hadn’t been free to do as he pleased for centuries instead of a little over two years. Granted he only had his mobility back, but the strength that coursed through him now was enough to excite him.

            Long legs vaulted him over a large patch of bushes and folded beneath him as he descended. He skid beneath a fallen log leaning against the trunk of another tree, and pushing off with both legs and arms he launched himself back to his feet. Once more he took off sprinting. Even the simple evasive maneuvers he had learned centuries before felt cathartic. He’d always known that his ability to move was important, but he never realized just how much it meant until he was down for the count, always taking his agility for granted. He gave a mighty push, springing off the ground and landing heavily atop one of the Faron Woods’ iridescent fungi. It buckled beneath him and tilted forwards, and he slid off of the mushroom top and landed on the earth, the cap springing back to stand upright once more.

            With his momentum gone, he took the time to catch his breath. Only a few days and he was already out of practice with his movements. It was there he stood, eyes grazing the forest and chest heaving. Absentmindedly his hand made its way to his chest, very gently pressing the palm to the exposed core. A dull twinge of pain rippled through his torso, hard enough to draw his attention away from the surrounding trees and down to where it lay. The steel that had once covered it had been torn away, only the edges of it still remaining. The bright red gem itself was fractured, cracks moving outwards from the centre point and glowing brighter and angrier than the rest of it. Cracks in the metal of his flesh on his chest trailed out from the core as well, glowing just as brightly as the core beneath the slick black steel. Frustration began to swell alongside the joy, threatening to devour it. He had been able to regain his strength and mobility thanks to the semi unfortunate deaths of Cassin and Vireo, but in his haste of escaping before anyone could find him he had fled before he could gather enough metals to repair the core in his chest. Without the cracks in his core fully sealed, any use of magic would be weak at best, and non-functional at worst. He couldn’t summon monsters or weapons, he couldn’t leap through space, and at best he could alter his own temperature to only a fraction of what he had been capable of before. As inconvenient as it was, he would have to repair the rest of his core.

            He had already wasted the day running from the village and all throughout the forest without any fauna to be seen. Understandably they would have fled at the sounds of someone crashing through the trees and undergrowth. There was no point in trying to hunt now so late in the day and with all of the wildlife scared off. That left returning to the village, and that in itself was an iffy solution at best. No doubt the others in the village would have discovered the bodies by now. If they functioned anything like demons had, patrols would have doubled and all eyes and ears would be alert for any signs of an intruder. Had he been able to jump through space back into the house he could have grabbed the bodies and left, assuming they were still there. Then again, if he had been able to jump through space then he wouldn’t have needed to return to the house in the first place. He would have been well enough to make his journey away from this goddess forsaken place without having to worry. As it stands, however, he was still not healed enough to return to where he had come. It would require the abilities he no longer possesses. He would need to return to the village. Both unnerved and settled by the decision, he began to run back towards the village he had fled. It offered the most readily available supply of natural metals he needed, and if he were lucky enough, perhaps he could just pick off a guard from the edges of the village without being heard or seen? That would be as close to a blessing as he could believe.

            It didn’t take him as long as he thought it would to reach the village again. He hadn’t gone too far on his joy run, and the only time he had stopped was to clean himself off. Once the village was in sight the sun had already set, the moon casting a pale silver glow on the world below. At least with the sun gone he would be granted extra cover in the shadows. Though by the looks of the village as it was now, the shadows would only give him so much cover. Even from this distance hidden by the trees he could see people lurking at the edges of the village, patrolling close to the forest’s edges and heads swinging wide to survey the landscape. Each group of three were close behind one another, perhaps only forty to fifty yards apart from each other. They had clear sight between each patrol, and more than enough time to gather and fight should an intruder come close. Softly he cursed under his breath, eyes fixating on a particular group passing by. Each patrol was just as alert as the one before it, perhaps a little too alert for his liking. He must have underestimated the bond they had to one another if this was how they were reacting to two measly deaths. Nonetheless, he needed to get closer.

            Hidden behind the thick trunk of a tree, Ghirahim let his eyes wander the area around him. Without his core properly healed he wouldn’t be able to summon monsters to distract them. Without his core properly functioning, he couldn’t leap through space to reach the house he desired. He would have to make use of the items he had around him to make a distraction long enough for him to slip into the village. His eyes brushed past something in the shadows, and they snapped back to it after a moment of registering what it was. A rock, thick and heavy, partially buried in the ground. If he could throw that hard enough and far enough, he could draw the attention of the patrols long enough to slink past. Glancing back up at the patrols, Ghirahim shuffled his way towards the buried stone, sinking down to a crouch behind the tops of the undergrowth. Out of sight he began to dig, scratching at the earth around the stone and hauling dirt and grass away from it. He paid as little mind to the dirt as he could, ignoring how it clung to his hands as he dug. Not soon enough the stone was exposed enough to pull it from the ground, and it popped out fairly easy with a good tug. Cradling it to his gut with one arm and reflexively shaking his free hand to rid it of dirt, Ghirahim turned his eyes towards the canopy above him. Thoughts racing and core pulsing with excitement, he slowly began his ascent. Climbing only with one hand free was a struggle, something that he certainly didn’t enjoy going lengths to accomplish, but as it stood, this was his best bet for a distraction. Humans were always so startled and captivated by the unknown making a large amount of noise. He had no doubts that the humans would investigate the noise from the rock crashing to the earth, but as to how long it would distract them was beyond him. As predictable as their actions were, their situation and alertness could prove to be his downfall.

            Midway to breaching the canopy, but still enveloped by the welcoming cover of the leaves, he hesitated. Once more his eyes grazed the foliage around him, and ever so slowly he began to shift and slink along the thicker limbs of the trees, going only as low as the leaves would give their cover to. Moving as fast as the breeze disturbed the leaves, Ghirahim made a painfully slow advance towards the village through the branches of the trees. The closer he could get, the easier it would be to distract them. The closer he could get, the easier it would be to slip into the shadows of the village. The closer he could get, the closer he was to repairing his core to its entirety.

            Uneasy and swaying beneath him, Ghirahim found a cluster of branches that would offer him the necessary support. For a few moments he waited, peering through the mass of leaves to watch as the patrols marched along. Heart and core pulsing and racing in time, he waited until a patrol was close to the tree he sat in. Heart leaping into his throat he tilted his head back and made the grating call of a Furnix, long and loud. Several parties of the knights had looked up in his direction, and using one hand he hurled the stone he had held back into the trees, farther than where he sat. For a few moments there was a silence so thick that he had begun to believe that these patrols were too smart for him. A violent crashing of branches breaking and stone colliding with wood echoed through the trees, and several patrols started. Footsteps raced past him, headed towards the place he had thrown, and after a moment of waiting to make sure they were behind him he leapt.

            For several seconds there was nothing but the wind and the stars all around him, disturbing his hair and brushing past his clothes. For a split second he began to regret wearing white. It was unbearably noticeable, even in darkness. All thought left him as his feet met the earth and he tumbled, rolling forwards with the momentum and skidding into an alley between two buildings. He didn’t dare stop to check that he had gone unnoticed, rushing forwards with quick and quiet steps out of the alley and into another, darting through moonlight and into inky shadows.

            Deeper in the village the stench of blood and death became more and more apparent. He stopped for a moment, hidden in the encroaching shadows, and checked behind him. Not a single sign of pursuing patrols, not a sound, smell, or sight. Something inside of him couldn’t believe his distraction had worked. It was shoddy at best, with an incredibly high chance of failure, and yet with some ridiculous stroke of luck he was here, hiding in the village without anyone knowing. He would gladly take that luck and run with it if it is here to stay. Following the reek, Ghirahim continued to make his way towards the building he had fled, heart and core racing faster and faster as he approached. He was so close to a functioning core, he could almost taste it.

 

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            Everything is far too peaceful for a night like this. With moonlight casting everything in a swath of shadows and silver glow, everything would be harder to see. Monsters, demons, whatever it was, it would be that much more difficult to see it coming. Crickets sang and fireflies passed by, the sounds of patrolling knights and the gentle mutter of the curious. Everything was too quiet for a night like this. A breeze pulled through the village, stirring up the smell of spilt blood and the reek of death. Nothing good could come from a night like this.

             The village had taken heed to Zelda’s words. The bodies had been left alone in the room, allowed to sit and stink and begin to waste without anything having been moved. It felt horribly wrong to leave the bodies of comrades and perhaps even friends to rot in their own homes without giving them a proper burial. Zelda had claimed their killer would return once night had fallen to scope out the rest of the scene, and the people had believed her. Link would have believed her too, had she not admitted to him in privacy that it had been Sol’s words she was speaking and not her own. Something about Sol was beginning to really bother him. Red flags went off every time he so much as thought of him, or any of his companions for that matter. And his companions, for that matter, didn’t seem reliable either.

            Sprawled awkwardly over the edges of the roof lay Loh, sleeping like a log by the looks of it. He had apparently had gone out like a light, precariously snoozing directly on the roof of the house with one hand hanging down over the edge. Despite being the one with the least to hide and with their language memorized as if it were his first, Link liked him the least. Something in his eyes brought upon him some kind of intense anxiety and anticipation. That isn’t to say neither Nilr nor Sol didn’t make him feel the same, but it was something about Loh in particular that made Link shudder when no one was looking. Maybe it was the fact that he too hid his face, even though he was the most human out of them all. He could clearly see the human head and body shape on Loh, while on Nilr and Sol everything was lost in the sea of fabrics. Perhaps it was the thought of only him being human amongst the unknown that made him wary. A part of him wished that Nilr and Sol would just show him they were human too, while the other part wanted nothing to do with seeing their faces. It would be too soon if he never saw these people ever again.

            Managing to tear his eyes away from the soundly sleeping man on the roof, Link instead looked to Zelda. She had been very adamant that she too would sit and watch the house with him, refusing to leave in case something worse came to pass. While he appreciated her assistance and support, something about the situation made him wish she would go home and sleep. Instead she sat beside him, leaning against another building’s wall and letting her eyes droop. She was exhausted from her own duties, he could tell, and sitting watch here with him was no doubt draining her of what little energy she had left. But still she stayed, dozing and drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness, resting her eyes as quickly and often as possible. Oh how dearly he wished she would return to the academy and get a good night’s rest. He was confident that he was capable enough to deal with the threat that loomed before them. He had done it once before and succeeded, and he will do it again and succeed.

            Zelda’s ears twitched and her eyes snapped open once again. Link was about to say something to her, to urge her to get some real sleep, but the way energy seemed to pour back into her silenced him. Her eyes sought out his, and instead of speaking to him she jerked her head, motioning to the house. Link looked over, anticipation building in his stomach once more. There was a quiet creak from within the house, something that confused him. Why did she act like there was something wrong when it was just the house settling? The distinct sound of cracking bone immediately corrected his thoughts. Something was in there.

            Already Zelda was on her feet, shield on her shoulder and bow and arrow in her hands. He stood as silently as he could, drawing his blade and his sliding his arm into the straps of his shield. Together they crept forwards, inching ever so slowly towards the house. Knights patrolling the area nearby must have seen them shifting, as they too halted and prepared themselves. Link paid them little mind, his focus centred on the door of the house. There was another snap of bone, this one a little louder than the last. The closer they got, the easier it was to pick up individual sounds. The snapping of bones, the slick squishing of organs, the grinding of teeth one shattered bone. Every sound hit him like a brick wall, threatening to paralyze him as he advanced in silence alongside Zelda. He wished he could reject the thoughts that came to mind, but he knew deep down that something was eating the bodies.

            Peering through the shadowed doorway, Link’s eyes grazed every object in the room. It wasn’t hard to spot what was in the darkness. With shadows enveloping the front of the house, there was no light to block and startle the thing within. Instead light seeped in from the opposite direction, shining through broken shutters and illuminating the beast within. Link’s heart nearly stopped as silvery white hit his eyes. He was hunched over, hands holding down flesh as teeth tore at the bones in the arm. Bone snapped again in his jaws, ground by teeth until another shard was bitten off. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t think. The white stood out almost blindingly in the darkness, hair hiding the shape of the face and dragging through blood. A thankful thought struck him in his tenseness. Thank the goddesses Zelda was here, or the killer would have enjoyed a free meal and escaped without consequence. In the corner of his eye he could see her shift into the room, gliding over the floor in silence thanks to the semi fresh blood. Slowly but surely she crept in, closer and closer to the beast. He didn’t seem to notice either of them, too taken by Vireo beneath him to care. Zelda stopped in her tracks, Link’s heart beating so loudly in his ears that he could have sworn the world could hear it.

            Zelda raised the bow, dragging back a readied arrow until the line was taut and would go no further. Still he didn’t seem to notice them, chewing and grinding and scraping away to his dead heart’s content. For a long while there was silence, Zelda taking aim at the beast directly in front of them and Link in the doorway, unable to move the entire time. Time seemed to stop as they stood there, watching him gnaw like a starved rat on bone and flesh. It was such a suffocating feeling that he didn’t realize he had been holding his breath. Brilliant white light suddenly burst forth from the arrow’s tip, casting a near blinding light in the room and banishing any shadows. He looked up sharp from the body, visible eye wide and cold blood dripping from his lips. Time suddenly began to move again and Zelda loosed the arrow.

            Everything was a blur, the light shining even brighter before dying as it struck its target. He howled, if only from the unexpected pain, and in a tumble of limbs smashed through the window.

            “Link, come on! Hurry!”

            Zelda’s words smashed his paralysis to pieces, and he gave wild chase, following Zelda’s lead and vaulting through the window he had smashed through. As soon as his feet hit the earth he was running as fast as he could. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, enough to catch up to Zelda and give chase like wild dogs. Arrow sticking out from his shoulder, he swerved through the buildings and alleys, the feathers of the arrow leaving a slight trail of light they could follow. The trail of light pierced the darkness like a beacon, and knights who had seen and heard the commotion were soon converged, all of them hot on his heels. Long legs covered ground faster than they could catch, but they kept close behind. The sounds of knights wheezing for their breath and the clatter of shields and swords in arms as they ran only filled him with more energy. He pushed himself faster, Zelda keeping stride, trying his damnedest to catch up.

            He made a sharp turn into an alley, and Link just barely managed to follow, switching directions in the blink of an eye with very little slide. Zelda was directly behind him, followed loosely by converging knights. Back and forth back and forth he swerved, and Link kept right behind him, twisting and turning as fast as he could without losing any of his speed.He eventually gave up on this, scrambling fast through empty streets as seemingly endless knights poured out of the side roads. Something in Link sparked. They were gaining on him. Sparks began to fly, paper thin residues of black magic whipping past him. He knew what the other was trying to do, but why couldn’t he do it? He had seen him do it countless times before, so why couldn’t he do it now? He shook the thought off as trees closed in around them. They had made it into the forest, with several knights skidding to a stop. Not everyone could fit, and some needed to stay back and protect the village. Link kept running, breaths so shallow and so quick they may have just been a figment of his imagination.

            White flashed in front of him enticingly, and he pushed even faster. He was so close, so very very close. Time seemed to slow once more and he made a split second decision. Pushing off of the ground as hard as he could he threw himself at him, arms outstretched and ready to crash into the other. All he met was an explosion of diamond shaped residue bits floating up from the spot he had been in. Link hit the ground hard, whatever air he had left beat from him as he tumbled and skid across the earth. Zelda overtook him, sliding past him and to a stop. He choked and coughed, fighting desperately for his breath. Zelda was immediately at his side, trying to help him up and rubbing his back. Another form skid past them, one he didn’t recognize at first and swearing in a language he didn’t know.

            Once his coughing fit had died off, he was able to recognize it as Loh. So he had woken up and joined in on their chase, huh? He too was heaving for breath through his fits of swearing and stomping, and for an indescribable reason amusement rose in his gut. The amusement faded quickly as the undergrowth shuddered and burst open. Sol and Nilr skid into the area, Nilr wobbling as she went and Sol skidding along on all fours. Both swore themselves after Loh wheezed something to them. Struggling to find his voice, Link made the attempt to call to them. The trio left without acknowledging any of them, leaving only confusion and exhaustion in their wake. For a moment there was nothing but silence filling the air. Soon enough the other knights began to wander their way back home, some burning holes into his back as they left. Zelda remained at his side, eyes cast to the place they had left just as his were. He let out a shuddering breath, and the words that followed were just as shaky.

            “I thought I killed him…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you it was straight murder but I may or may not have left out the part about Ghirahim needing metals to properly and swiftly heal his body. So yeah. Here you go. Hope you liked it, and if you were sqwuiked out and still read it I'm proud of you. Sorry it got intense but I rated it mature and I warned y'all at the start so you can't be mad. If you enjoyed it, I'm glad you did! It's gonna be a little less gore from here on out again lol.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghirahim is hella embarrassed, and Link and Zelda get kidnapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a few days off from writing, I hit this one full force. I don't have much to say, tbh. I guess all I can say is that I hope you enjoy!

            In all of his lives, he had never felt so humiliated. How could he have allowed such a foolish mistake to happen? He had been so careful at the beginning of it, executing a distraction so brilliantly and making his way through the village without being spotted. It had all been going so well. He had even made it inside and had all the time in the world with those bodies. No one knew, and no one could have ever known! How was he discovered? How did he ruin such a wonderful gift? Had it been the sound of the window shuddering open and closed? Did he linger in a patch of light too long? Was it his white outfit that had alerted them to his presence? Oh no, of course it couldn’t have been. A sneer twisted on his face. The brats were always so on top of things, an action that he would have found respectable had it not been them who were so bloody good at it. If it had been anyone else than them, he would have lingered longer to congratulate them with snark and thinly veiled insults. But of course it had to be them.

            His shoulder pulsed angrily, and he hissed. Even thinking about the two brats agitated the wound. Thankfully he had managed to jump to a place that was a decently safe and abandoned area to lick his wounds. They just had to go and injure him, just as he had regained full function of his body too. He looked to the arrow jutting from his shoulder bitterly, burning holes in the shaft and feathers with a heated glare. Light Magic continued to pulse through the arrow, the feathers glowing and the shaft giving off a dull shine. The spot where the arrow had pierced his shoulder looked far different that what his wounds normally looked like. Brilliant t endrils of white splashed his skin, slowly but surely spreading throughout his body and infecting every inch. It had been too long since he last encountered Light Magic so concentrated it acted like a poison. The tendrils had already reached his core, he could feel, just beneath his false flesh façade. He didn’t need to check to know that the Light Magic was seeping into it and disrupting the flow of magic coursing inside. He did not look forwards to his most readily available remedy to rid himself of such poisons.

             Ghirahim took a short minute to scan his surroundings. He had made a swift escape to the Ancient Cistern, something he was pleased and impressed by with a freshly tainted core. He had landed himself on one of the higher ledges in the front room of the temple, the statue of the old god standing so tall still that its head reached up into the ceiling. Water cascaded in from waterfalls all around the room, filling pools of lily pads with fresh water that cycled around the room. The temple seemed to be eerily vacant of all monsters he had once situated within it, but he brushed it off. Those brats were continuously on top of everything, from slaying monsters to shooting people in the shoulder. He would be safe here, safe enough to tend to his fresh wound.

            Ghirahim sat himself down near the edge of his perch, and hesitantly placed a hand on the arrow shaft. Magic pierced his leather gloves, dancing against his palm and causing a numbed feeling. It wasn’t as kind to his wound, as another throb of agony pulsed out from the puncture. He had every reason to not look forwards to this remedy, but as it stands this is the only one he’s got. Without giving it much thought or himself enough time to talk himself out of it, Ghirahim gave the shaft a violent, forceful yank. Metal prongs on either side of the arrowhead caught on flesh tore it open, ripping a howl of agony from him. The arrowhead came out shortly after, leaving a gaping, bleeding puncture in its wake. Agony poured outwards from the hole, travelling through his torso in waves. He studied the wound and the pronged arrowhead absentmindedly, turning the arrow over in his hands. What a vicious and vile weapon for a reborn goddess and a hero brat to use.

            The arrow was soon tossed carelessly over his shoulder and ignored in favour of inspecting his new wound. Already the tendrils of Light Magic were beginning to fade where the wound was, slowly creeping through the rest of his body and his skin. It would take some time for the Light Magic in his core to fade, but that was the least of his concerns. Within the temple lay something that he needed, something that could take him away from this horrid place rife with the goddess and her snot wearing hero. Perhaps he could return below, gather some forces, and make a grand return? Vaguely the memory of wishing to thank the hero for one thing or another surfaced, but it was immediately pushed from his mind. That had been then, when he was still confused and trapped. This is now, after recovering from grievous wounds and sustaining a new one that was arguable just as vile as the ones prior. The only thanks the brat would receive for freeing him is a free seat to the destruction of his precious village.

            Ignoring the blood pulsing from the wound, he stood himself up once more. He wasn’t far from the place he desired, and the quicker he arrived, the quicker he could return. He wasted as little time as he could, travelling towards a nearby pit that led into inky blackness. All he had to do was descend into the pit and traverse the rotting basement of the temple. Over walls and beyond mounds of bone was where his destination lay. He could almost smell the magic and rot. The very idea filled his body with adrenaline and excitement. Bounding up ledges and across gaps, Ghirahim’s thoughts began to drift and race. What was the realm like now? Had it changed much in the short years he had been trapped? How were the people faring? Homesickness began to well beneath his skin alongside the excitement, and he began to move faster, eager to return. How had his tribe changed? Were his tribemates well? Would they be excited to see him? Has anyone died since his entrapment? Has anyone new been added to the tribe? How was his Advisor, his General, his Castors? How was Old Shuck? There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Old Shuck would greet him with the vigour and vitality of a pup.

            Reaching the pit, Ghirahim stopped. Gazing into the inky blackness, his thoughts slowly trailed to an end. He had been used to darkness shifting and swaying in his vision. The idea that light and shadow were still was preposterous to him. But the way the darkness shifted and buckled in the pit brought up a horrid feeling of anticipation, a feeling he really didn’t want to experience so close to home. Taking a careful step closer, Ghirahim leaned over the edge and searched the darkness, body tensing as he stood. The darkness looked back at him, eyes as blue as the ancient sea boring holes into him. A sharp, glinting smile flashed in the depths before becoming sour. His heart leapt into his throat just as he leapt back, just in time to dodge her.

            She burst forth from the darkness, scales rippling and flaring, the sound crashing like the water that fell around them. She reared her head back, eyes locking with his for only a moment before she lunged. Ghirahim launched himself backwards, leaping from the ledge and falling. Faron was close behind, every razor sharp fang and tooth exposed and opened to swallow him whole. He hit the water hard and fast, sinking like a brick towards the bottom. Faron hit it harder, the force of her impact sucking water towards her and up into the air. Ghirahim pushed away from the force, struggling through the water and down towards the bottom of the pool. Faron was faster, swimming like a crack of lightning in the sky towards him. With his core functioning at only half the strength it normally could, he forced his body temperature lower and lower, dropping heat as quickly as he could. Ice began to form in the water around him, breaking away from him in large chunks and speeding towards the surface. Several pieces collided with Faron, some hitting hard and fast enough to slow her down. He took his chances, raising a hand and snapping as best he could. Once again only the sparks of the magic were flying. Time felt slower. Light Magic was still in his core, bothering the flow of Shadow Magic. A seed of panic began to grow through him as Faron pushed past the ice chunks. Pushing himself harder and harder, he tried his damnedest to force a small explosion of magic through his core. Faron continued to swim ever closer, closing the distance between them faster than he would have liked.

            Lady Luck seemed to pity him once more, and he disappeared in another flash of diamonds. He whizzed through space as fast as he could until he could hold it no longer. He reappeared before the door leading to the stairs out of the temple. His jump through space wouldn’t confuse her for long, he knew. He was still far too close to her for the dragon to give up the chase. Without thinking he ran, jumping up the stairs as fast as his long legs could take him, he hadn’t reached a third of the way up before a torrent of water exploded upwards and came crashing down by the gallon. He didn’t have to check to know that Faron was soaring after him. Cursing her in tongues, he pushed himself faster, scrambling up the stairs as the panic began to seed fear into him. Perhaps he had judged the Ancient Cistern as safe a little too prematurely.

            Two thirds of the way up the stairs the ground beneath him rattled and shook, almost like the vertigo he had been plagued by not even a day earlier. Scales scratched and tore at the stone as Faron launched herself up the stairs after him. He knew how poor a condition his core was in at the moment, but that didn’t stop him from trying once again to leap through space. He began snapping again as he fled up the stairs, struggling to ignite the magic in his core. More sparks, each looking no more successful than the last. The light of the moon was shining just before him in the doorway ahead. He was so damn close, as was Faron. He could feel her breath now, hot and sticky against his heels. She hissed something in his tongue, something he knew she would do. She was a bitter old hag who would do whatever it took to catch a demon, even if it meant goading them to attack in their own language. He paid her no mind, too smart to fall for her devious words. He was quickly running out of stairs and out in the open of the clearing, he had nowhere to run or hide. She was faster than he, and was only held back now by the tightness of the corridor of stairs. Once more he pushed as hard as he could, struggling with past the Light Magic disturbing his magic.

            As soon as his feet landed on the last step his magic ignited and he leapt through space, pushing as hard and fast as he could. Just at the tail end of his leap he could feel the gust of air and hear the sound of crumbling, collapsing stone. A cave in, no doubt caused by the force of Faron’s chase. Parts of him shuddered with an intense anger. With his core barely functioning until the Light Magic dispersed, there was little hope of reaching the basement of the Ancient Cistern. As he moved through hammerspace he couldn’t help but think of how much he would adore having a new, blue, scale-leather hide for his room.

 

* * *

* * *

  
  


            “What do you think of these arrows? Do you think these would be good?”

            “I don’t know. Do you think they’d be good?”

            “I don’t know, I don’t use my bow much any more.”   


            “I use mine just as often.”

            A tiny seed of annoyance flared to life inside him before quickly dying back down. It was the morning after the chase. Link could tell that neither he nor Zelda got a good night’s rest after the chase, their exhaustion manifesting as short tempers in their conversations. Understandably neither were ever going to get a good night’s rest, not after yesterday’s events and the burial that night. A serious threat, having long since been thought dead, has reared its head to endanger the village. None of the other knights recognized him during the chase, and he had kept quiet about his journeys to others. Even Zelda had been moderately selective when she told her stories to people, leaving out the names of the evils that plagued the land. It was something neither of them thought was necessary to share in a time of peace. Obviously they had been wrong. Had they shared the evils in their journeys, perhaps Vireo and Cassin would still be patrolling with them. Perhaps they would still be happy and bickering. Perhaps they would still be sparing and sharing stories and helping teach the apprentices. Their deaths were on their heads, his more so than Zelda’s. In their retirement last night, both had agreed to go hunting him down. Now in their exhausted, low tolerance states, Link couldn’t tell whether or not their agreement would be just or if they were leaping head first into something they shouldn’t be.

            “You used your bow last night, though. You shot him in the arm.”

            “That was the first time in weeks that I’d used it.”

            “And the light from the arrow?”

            “I haven’t practised that in weeks, either. It’s exhausting and I had better things to do than tire myself with some old residual powers.”

            Another spark of annoyance crept up in his gut before falling again. The intrusive thoughts of a reborn goddess unable to use her powers rose angrily before he swatted them away like the gnats they were. Rationally, he could understand why she hadn’t been practising, and he was no better. He hadn’t touched the Triforce’s power in ages, but that in itself was a different matter altogether. An irrational part of him still felt the annoyance over it. Keeping his focus on the arrows before him was all he could do to push it away and out of his mind.

            “What was the arrow you used on him yesterday like?”

            For a moment, silence met his words, and it fueled both his annoyance and curiosity. Zelda responded soon after.

            “It was the one with the four prongs on the arrowhead, and the white feathers on the end. I figured it would be harder for him to pull it out.”

            His eyes searched through the table of arrows before him. There were some that were simple, ones meant for hunting. Others had small bombs attached to the arrowheads, and some even were made of just a piece of wood and nothing else. Zelda reached over his shoulder with one arm and pointed towards a stack of bundles of arrows. Link followed her gesture to the pile and carefully lifted a bundle up. Each arrow had red, green, and blue feathers tied to the ends, and the shaft was made from a near white wood. The arrowhead was a pyramid in shape, no doubt able to create a tricky wound to heal, and had one prong on each of the three points of the tip. They would be easy to spot in both light and shadows, and the arrow would not only stick but inflict something that Link would never usually wish upon another. In this situation, however, it looked like this arrow would be perfect.

            “Where did you even get the four prong arrows?”

            “Oh, I had Gondo specially make them for me.”

            “Why though?”

            Zelda just gave a nonchalant shrug, and Link shook his head. It didn’t matter much to him. She probably just liked the looks of them. Link turned his attention back to the vendor, who was beginning to look more and more uncomfortable listening to them speak of shooting someone. He paid the shrewd man in full for six bundles, handing three of them to Zelda afterwards and sliding the other three into his own quiver. As they turned away from the vendor, Zelda pulled out a small piece of parchment with words scribbled quickly onto it. Even in scribbles her writing was better than his, he thought absentmindedly.

            “We should leave our swords with Gondo for a quick sharpening.”

            “Maybe we should grab some potions from the Potion Shop? I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I’ll be able to chase after him forever.”

            “We can do it while he’s sharpening our blades.”

            Link nodded, and followed along beside Zelda as they started towards Gondo’s workshop. Spending time with her like this was nice. It had been a while since they had gone shopping together, but he wished they weren’t shopping under these circumstances. Briefly, the images of Vireo and Cassin popped into his head, battered and shredded in the darkness of their house. Images of him surfaced close behind, whites and greys shimmering in the moonlight and hunched over the bodies like a starved Wolfos. Link shook his head, banishing the thoughts from his head like he would with a shower of droplets in his hair. This is no time to be thinking of such things. He needed to focus on the task ahead of him, and not the events from the past. No manner of wishing or thinking could bring them back. 

            “How much food do you think we should bring with us?”

            Zelda’s words shook him from his thoughts, and he hesitated to think.

            “Maybe… Maybe a few weeks worth? We told Eagus that we didn’t know when we would be back.”

            Beside him Zelda gave a sagely nod, blue eyes pouring over the scribbles on her parchment.

            “We could bring about twenty pounds of it. We could carry ten pounds each, and then we could bring our own flasks.”

            “Depending on where he goes, we should bring a few extra flasks, and hunt when we can too. There’s not much water or wildlife in the deserts.”

            Once more Zelda nodded, pulling a wrapped stick of charcoal from atop her ear and carefully scribbling more words onto the page.

            “Should some of our extra flasks hold potions then? Cause I don’t think I have enough flasks for both, and I don’t know if I have the rupees to buy more either.”

            Link nodded, his anger and annoyance starting to fade.

            “Yeah, and we should save the red potions we get for the desert or if we get hurt. They would probably do us better there.”

            Zelda didn’t respond this time, writing on her parchment with extreme focus. Link enjoyed the silence between them this time, listening to the world around them as they went. Despite yesterday’s tragic events, the village seemed to have been able to return to its normal state of liveliness. Kids were out and playing, adults laughing and selling wares, birds singing, a cool breeze blowing, and the sun warming the world. Things could still be okay. If they accomplished this quickly enough, they could all return to a life of peace and routine, something that Link desperately wanted for everyone.

            It took less time that he originally thought for them to reach Gondo’s workshop, and they pushed the door open. A little bell above the door rang as they entered, and rang again as the door shut behind them. The pounding of stone on metal stopped and seconds later Gondo peered around from behind the back wall, goggles on and a bandana pulled tightly around his lower face, no doubt to protect his face from the flying sparks of hot metal. Even behind the bandana and tinted goggles Link could see his eyes brighten and a smile spread across his face. He pulled the bandana down and moved up to the front counter. Despite it sounding like heavy stones cracking, Gondo’s voice was one of his favourites.

            “Hey! If it isn’t Zelda and Link! I haven’t seen you two in a while!”

            “It’s nice to see you Gondo. Hopefully business is going well?”

            “Business is booming now! I’ve gotten so many swords in the queue for the academy and knights who snapped theirs that I barely have time to tinker with ol’ Scrapper.”

            Link couldn’t help but snort. He had forgotten about Scrapper. The old piece of tech would always try to hit on Fi, doing everything she said without question. He almost felt bad for him that Fi never seemed to understand or return any kind of feelings, but then again, he wasn’t surprised she didn’t. She admitted she didn’t feel much until near the end of their journey together, and that perhaps made him wish she was still his blade even more than when he held the lifeless one strapped to his back.

            “So what can I do for you two today? I wouldn’t mind doing something different for a bit. Making swords is fun and all, but it’s a bit much when it’s every day and night.”

            “Actually, Gondo,” Link started and hesitated, glancing to the hilt of his own blade. “We need you to sharpen our swords. We’re headed out soon, and we figured we should get them polished up before we left.”

            “Not a problem! Anything to be out of that swelter back there.”

            “Thank you, Gondo. We really appreciate it.”

            “Don’t tell the other customers this, but I really appreciate it too. Something different to do should help freshen these tired eyes.”

            Link began to unstrap his sheathe, pulling the sword and all from his back and setting it down on the front counter. Zelda did the same, pushing her blade forth to sit beside his. Gondo took the two blades and unsheathed them, inspecting the edges closely from behind his goggles.

            “Where are you two headed?”

Link hesitated, just as Zelda did, and Link glanced at Zelda. She returned the glance, uncertainty in her eyes. Link could feel her hesitance, and intimately understood it. In fear of ruining the peace, she was debating on not telling him. Link was thinking the same, but the thought of Vireo and Cassin soon swayed his decision. It would be for the best if they told him outright what they were doing, as to try and avoid the deaths or harm upon anyone else.

            “We’re not sure. We’re going out to hunt down the one who killed Vireo and Cassin before he can hurt anyone else.”

            Gondo looked up from his inspecting, seemingly surprised that Link had shared anything with him at all. But soon the expression shifted to one of empathy and joy.

            “I know you two will do them proud. Just promise us all you’ll come back safe and sound.”

            This time Zelda responded, her voice mirroring the latent concern hiding in Gondo’s voice.

            “I promise we will.”

            “And give him a good kick in the shorts for me, too. He hurt two of my best customers.”

            At this Link let out a small chuckle and nodded.   


            “We’ll give him all he deserves.”

            “I appreciate it. Come back in about an hour or so. I should have both your blades razor sharp and glittering like the stars.”

            “Thank you Gondo.”

            With nothing more to say, both Link and Zelda left the workshop, the bell tinkling with the door behind them. Silence fell upon them once more as they walked into the streets. The world still chittered and shifted around them, a comforting and grounding feeling, but something was beginning to feel off again. A change in the air pressure around them, perhaps? Maybe it would rain again? Hopefully it wouldn’t be a thunderstorm. He’s had a tiring past few days, and he would really just appreciate a quiet storm. The air pressure around them continued to drop, a feeling he didn’t mind all that much. Damp air began to make its way around them, and clouds began to move closer. Perhaps this storm was moving in too fast to be something benign? Link tried to push the thoughts away. Zelda’s words were a welcome distraction.

            “Link, what else did you see on your journeys?”

            Perhaps that hadn’t been quite the distraction he had been looking for. Why was she curious? She had seen most of what he had seen anyways. He responded with a nonchalant shrug and a half hearted grunt.

            “I didn’t see much more than what you saw.”

            “How about a dragon? Did you see a giant blue dragon?”

            For a second he halted, and Zelda stopped beside him. He hadn’t spoken of Faron before to anyone, and Zelda never gave any hint of meeting her.

            “How’d you know? Did you meet her?”

            Zelda grabbed his chin rather roughly, something that took him aback, and she forcibly tilted his head upwards to look at the sky. Descending from the clouds above them was a streak of blue, a burst of rain in her wake. She flew down at such alarming speeds, and out of instinct he nearly shouted at her to move. A huge scaled hand grabbed around his middle, forcing the air from his lungs, and soon after he was ascending while clutched in the hand of an irritable Water Dragon. Above the roaring wind and the sudden crashing of water on scales he could hear Zelda shriek, loud and long and breathless. A rumbling sound, loud enough to be heard clearly over the rain and wind, vibrated through the hand around his middle. He had heard that sound before. Faron was hushing them. Instead of panicking, Link turned his eyes to the ground below them. They were high up, higher than what they usually flew over the earth on their Loftwings, but he felt no fear. He had fallen lengths far greater than this before, and he had lived thanks to his Sailcloth. Instead he took comfort in watching the trees beneath him whip past, the wind cold on his face and rain stinging whatever it hit. If he thought hard enough, he could almost pretend he was laying on his Loftwing’s back, watching the world pass them by as he soared leisurely through the air currents.

            Soon the ground was creeping closer, the trees and life beneath them becoming more and more defined. The speed of their travels slowed greatly, once more knocking the breath out of him, before land met the soles of his boots and he was released. Weak legged from loss of breath, Link staggered backwards a few steps. Zelda was quickly beside him, just as breathless and disoriented. Before them sat Faron, rain pittering against her scales and passive patience weathering her face. Link was quick to regain his breath and bearings, and Zelda was only seconds behind him. Both cast their gazes to Faron, and sensing their grip on their surroundings, Faron gave a bow lower than Link had ever seen her stoop to before.

            “Forgive me, My Grace, for my rude interruption.”

            Link glanced to Zelda, and by the dumbfounded expression on her face he knew she wouldn’t be able to respond before Faron continued.

            “Originally it was only my plan to snatch your hero from where he stood, but you were luckily in the same place. I figured it would be much more efficient to rely my information to the both of you at the same time, rather than one after the other. I apologize for the inconvenience, My Grace.”

            “It-... It’s all right. We weren’t especially busy. I-”

            “Wonderful to hear!”

            Still dumbfounded, Zelda let her eyes flicker to his. All he could offer was a confused shrug. Faron had always been a noble busy body. He had just gotten used to it. Both of their eyes were drawn back to Faron once she began speaking again.

            “I am afraid I only bring bad news to you both. I am unsure of the entire story from your quests, but I fear there is a loose end wandering around.”

            Once more they looked at one another, dread covering both of their faces. They knew what she would say before she said it.

            “I found that wretched devil Ghirahim wandering within the Ancient Cistern just a few hours earlier. Wounded, mind you, and inefficient with his magic, but alive and wandering nonetheless.”

            Link could feel that his face had lost all colour, and a quick glance to Zelda told him that she was feeling the same. Voice paralyzed just as his body was, he was thankful that once again Zelda was there to speak the questions he himself could not bring himself to ask aloud.

            “What is he doing in the Ancient Cistern?”

            “I haven’t a doubt in my mind that the brute was attempting to return to the Demon Realm.”

            “Demon Realm? In the Ancient Cistern?”

            Faron gave a sagely nod, folding her arms in front of her and tucking her hands into her sleeves.

            “Deep within the bottom-most levels of the Ancient Cistern is a world of rot and curses. On the lowest level in the basement is a small valley in the stones. It is usually inaccessible, but there are ways to make successful journey there. That little valley in the stones holds one of the many connections between our realm and theirs. A portal, if you will.”

            Managing to find his voice, Link spoke up with a new question on his tongue.

            “One of many? You mean there are more than just one portal to this realm?”

            “Indeed. It is the only one in the three regions the ancient peoples resided in, so there is no worries of anything from beyond our mountainous borders, but beyond that are hundreds, arguably thousands of different cracks that demons can crawl from their realm into ours.”

            “And what about the one in the Ancient Cistern? Is he there right now?”

            Relief momentarily flooded him when Faron shook her head, but it was a short lived feeling.

            “I chased the devil off. Unfortunately he disappeared before I could get my jaws around him. But I have sealed off the temple, and as he is right now, there is no way for him to make it back into the Cistern and to the portal.”

            Zelda spoke up now, no more looking dumbfounded but instead intrigued by the Water Dragon’s words.

            “Outside of this land, where is the nearest portal to the Demon Realm?”

            “The closest one to our borders lies about a four day walk from the northern Sheikah settlement. The settlement is about a day’s walk from the foot of the far side of the tallest mountain northwest of here.”

            Faron paused for a moment, seeming to register the meaning behind her words before leaning down a little to look closer at Zelda.

            “Are you planning to travel out to that portal?”

            With a glance to him and a nod of approval, Zelda gave a nod to the dragon. For a few moments Faron was silent, ocean blue eyes piercing holes into both Zelda and himself. After a while she sat back and nodded, bringing a hand up to scratch at her chin.

            “With thumb on horizon line and palm to the sky, match the heel of your hand to the setting sun and follow the tip of your middle finger to find the Sheikah settlement. Once you reach the settlement, head north four days until you reach a ruined shrine. That is where you will find the nearest portal.”

            “Thank you for your help, Faron.”

            The sound of his voice so clear and strong nearly startled him. He didn’t think he held that kind of power and excitement anymore. Faron chuckled and nodded to first him, and then Zelda.

            “No need for thanks, hero. I am simply doing my duties. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must return to my people in Lake Floria. I fear for their safety with that devil wandering around. I’ll return you to your village, My Grace and hero, just where I snatched you both from.”

            “We appreciate it.”

            “Oh, one last thing, My Grace and hero,” she said, letting her arms drop to her sides. Link couldn’t help the nervous swallow.

            “On my way to retrieve you, I caught a whiff of other demons lurking in my forests. A shame I cannot rid them from these woods with a simple flood like before, but I will admit that the safety of you humans is far more important that a grand flood.”

            “Have you seen the demons?”

            Faron shook her head in response, a near mournful look encroaching on her face.

            “Sadly I have not. I have only smelt them. But I advise you to keep a look out for them. Wherever a demon goes, trouble follows close behind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the end of... what, Chapter 12??? I'll be honest, this is the most committed to a fic I have ever been in my entire life. I think I might actually finish a fic for once, and if that happens, I'll have to decide between a solid six other fics I have on the back burner.
> 
> If y'all got any preference for stories, I'll let y'all hit me up on tumblr, as a kind of poll I guess. I'll list the fics here, with the general game they take place in and possibly the name/work in progress name. If there's ships in em I'll label em too.
> 
> First one is "Jaded Cat and Livid Mouse 2: Electric Boogaloo". Still kinda GhiraLink I guess, and has a little more to do with the Demon Realm. This is still Post Skyward Sword.
> 
> Second is "Flicker of a Shadow". It's Pre Ocarina of Time to Post Ocarina of Time era, and the main protag will be Sheik. Basically kind of a super convoluted "follow my life" fic, but I guess more actiony. And a hot warning, it is shipping Sheik with like... two OCs in a sweet sweet polygamous relationship. I've spent five to six years trying to piece this together. It's gonna be a fuckin NOVEL.
> 
> Third is "Things Didn't Have to Be This Way". It's a Post Skyward Sword fic, and the main ship is GhirImpa. Kinda of alternate timeline style stuff to Jaded Cat and Livid Mouse.
> 
> The fourth is "Malice in MY Hyrule? More Likely Than You Think". If it ain't obvious, it'll Breath of the Wild era, post main storyline, and let's just say that Malice + Long thought dead evils = A Literal Hell on Earth. I don't think there's a ship for this one.
> 
> Aaaannnnnnd the final one is "Insert Generic Horror Title Here". This one is during the Breath of the Wild game, and true to its holder name, it is a generic horror title. Bloodmoons and malice and curse monsters, oh my! I don't think there's much a ship for this one either.
> 
> If y'all wanna vote on it, feel free to let me know at https://syphrilfox.tumblr.com. Leave me a message or whatever if you want to, cause I'm really digging this writing thing but I really don't know which to write lol.
> 
> ((Speaking of messages too, Zoey you are a super sweetheart my dude. Thank you for the nice comment. Yer comment is probably one of the main things that made me slam this chapter out. Thank you my dude, and I hope you enjoyed it!))


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone said they were curious about Ghirahim's past so there's some more of it. Also Link spills his life story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a gift from me to you on this day of birth, I give you all this next chapter update. Kind of excited to get into this one tbh, at least with Ghirahim's bit because I love talking about headcanons and shit, but also because I've done so much world building for this story and this is kind of the place where it all begins. So little of it is explicitly shown in this fic ((there is defs more in the planned sequel)) and I just get really frickin jazzed about sharing it with y'all. This kind of stuff really butters my egg roll, ya feel??? Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy it.

            He’s seen this before. Rain pelts the earth, soaking him to the bone and muffling the sounds of the world around him. Rain is a cleanser. It washes away the smells, the sounds, the sights, the sins. It sweeps the blood from his body, thin red trickles of it sliding down his cheeks and arms and staining the white of his clothes a near pink everywhere it touched. The smell of wet earth and dying plants mingled with the reek of blood and death, washing it away as best it could. The bodies strewn around him, however, could not be washed away. Even in the dreary darkness of this night he could still make out the torn corpses. Arms and legs broken, some even missing them, scales cracked and discarded, entire torsos separated from heads and hips while entrails sat on the earth near them, slopped out on the ground as the dismembered bodies lay in freezing rain.

            He’s seen this before. Around him trees were wilting and rotting, some of them toppled to the ground and others split directly in half. A few remained growing and healthy, though the rest were gone. The washed out white of a stone house could be seen just beyond the rotting wood, large chunks of it smashed and crumbling. The houses farther away were just as damaged, turned to rubble and ruin, littered with its own kind of corpses. Corpses of the innocent. Corpses of his comrades. Corpses of those he had sworn years ago he would protect. Staring out towards the ruined town brought him no guilt or shame for failing his task. Instead he felt coldness and numbness, eyes half lidded and posture beginning to slouch. Any anger he had felt before this was dulled by the rain, the wind, and the biting chill of the blade he gripped weakly in his hand. He couldn’t bring himself to feel even regret over being unable to protect them.

            He’s felt this before. Off in the distant woods and beyond the town ruins, the sounds of metal meeting metal rang out, each clang sending a tremor down his spine. Calls in a language he couldn’t understand floated over the sounds of rain and fighting, combat by the cries of voices he could understand and recognize. He felt no desire to join them. She would be there, and he did not want to feel her comparison of his actions to hers again. He was tired of it. They had no need of him anyways. It was not his destiny to fulfill. He was empty, hollow, void of all things he usually felt. No anger, no regret, no desire to please. He didn’t want any of this anymore. She could take it from him if she so pleased. He is done fighting something that cannot change. All he would really like is to be laid down like the beasts that lay in tatters and pieces around him. An honourable way to go, he thinks, fighting for something and dying for it. He would not be missed, and he would not miss this life he has been led to live.

            He’s experienced this before. Behind him there is loud hiss, something akin to the sound of hot steel being quenched in cool oil. The undergrowth doesn’t just rustle, but snaps and crunches, being destroyed even further under the weight of something obviously massive. No panic, no fear, no anger or excitement pooled in his gut. He felt nothing but the cold and an overwhelming numbness. This would be nothing more than another necessary fight for their victory, and he had very little interest in completing this fight at all. For a moment he hesitates, debating on whether or not he should fight at all.

            “Turn and face me.”

            He remembers this. Voice like smashing boulders and blades muffled in a surge of water, a feeling other than numb shot through him: Fear. Faster than he remembers being able to at the time he spun on his heel to face the one behind him. A blaze of brilliant red and orange reached up through the rain and into the sky, rooted in the skull, neck, and shoulders of the beast. He stood at his full height, proving himself twice his own height. Black and crimson scales shimmered and shone in the dark rain, reflecting the light of the blaze upon the other’s head. Cracks in his skin pulsed with something like spilt ink, bringing a sharp contrast to large, venomously red eyes. Out of scales, muscle, fire and size, his eyes were the only things to make his fear congeal into panic. He staggered back without thinking, clumsily stepping over the dismembered until a thick torso caught his foot and he fell. A mix of mud and blood splashed as his rear hit the earth, and yet he continued to try and retreat from the beast. Piercing red never left warm brown as he advanced upon him. Panic continued to spike within him. His back hit stone, and he cursed to himself in his thoughts. The building, he had forgotten that there had been a building in this direction. He didn’t dare look away from the other, eyes wide as the moon.

            “What, has your will to fight fled you? Stand up and face me. Show me the bite of your blade.”

            He remembers this. A new feeling seeded into his gut, one he had not expected to birth in such a situation. Delight pushed him to his feet, but fear kept his hands and legs shaking. Mud dripped from him as he stood there, blade held before him in the offensive and body hunched in preparation to fight or flee. Something about the sight must have amused the other, as a grinding sound akin to a chuckle rattled from his chest.

            “Well?” He spread his arms wide, showing no weapons on his person and gesturing at him. “Is there something the matter? I’m allowing you to strike first. Take it.”

            Something inside of him jumped to a frantic start, and almost without noticing he was running towards him. As he approached the other kept his arms spread wide, almost as if he were welcoming an old friend. The dark light in his eyes told him he was everything but welcoming. With a clear shot presented to him, he thrust the tip of his blade towards the other’s heart. He could end this, right here, right now. If he ended this right here right now, she would no longer hold the destiny meant for him. There would be no need to submit his duties to another. There would be no need for her to train another. If he could finish this right here and right now, then his destiny would be complete.

            A huge scaled hand grasped the length of his blade, the edge slicing through the softer meat of the palm. All breath caught in his lungs as his blade was yanked to the side. Hands nearly frozen to the hilt of his blade, his arms jerked painfully in the sockets as his body followed. Another palm struck him in the back and pushed harshly in the opposite direction. His blade was jerked from his hands, and his body was crushed into the soaked earth. All breath left him as he hit the dirt, and though downed the massive hand continued to press him down into the earth. He struggled and squirmed beneath him, and harder the hand pressed until his ribs groaned and lungs cried for air. The hand suddenly fled his back, and all at once air rushed into his lungs. He choked and gasped and coughed on the ground, writhing all the while. Behind him he could vaguely hear the other run his fingers and nails against his blade.

            “Beautifully crafted, striking design… As much as I hate to admit it, that wretched goddess is competent with creation.”

            Just managing to push himself up onto his hands and knees, he dared to cast his gaze to the other. He stood there, holding the blade as if it were a delicate piece of glass. Red eyes flickered up from the blade to meet his own, and for reasons unknown to himself he let his eyes drop.

            “There’s only one flaw in this blade,” The sounds of mud squishing underfoot brought a new wave of tremors shooting down his spine. “And that flaw is you.”

            He couldn’t help the grimace that squeezed him, and he didn’t need to look at the other to know that to see him like this brought him joy.

            “A starved animal, weak with hunger but desperate to fight.”

            A wince shot through his body, and he slowly pushed himself to stand on his knees, still unable to meet the other’s gaze.

            “It’s no wonder she cast you aside for a new blade. You are all too willing to bite at the hand that feeds you.”

            Something within him held him in place. Perhaps it was the numbness, maybe the pain in his ribs, or perhaps it was acceptance of the other’s words. He didn’t look up as the other stopped before him, and he didn’t move from the place his knelt. For many moments there was silence between them, red eyes piercing and tearing him apart. The sounds of battle in the distance had grown louder, slowly drawing closer to them as they stood in the mud and rain.

            “You want to prove her wrong, don’t you?”

            His words startled him, this time not because of his voice, but because of how close to home they struck him. He did want to prove her wrong. He wanted to prove her wrong so badly that it had eaten away at his insides until he only felt numb. He wasn’t a failure, he wasn’t too rebellious, he wasn’t unpredictable. He was her first, her best, her only, and still she cast him aside for something less black, less wicked, less deadly. She had never told him that his destiny was no longer his, but he didn’t need to be told to know. This was no longer his life to live, and he was no longer as important as she had told him he was. He wanted to prove her wrong so badly that the numbness was ignited and burned into a silent, boiling rage.

            A hand, massive and scaled and bleeding, lowered into his sights and offered itself. Hesitantly, he raised his head just enough to look up at the other. His gaze was intense and unreadable.

            “I can give you something better. I can give you everything she tore from your hands and more. I can give you a real destiny, one that is yours and only yours.”

            Rage continued to boil in his gut, but uncertainty bled into it. He slowly glanced back over his shoulder, towards the sounds of a struggle.

            “You hesitate for her. What for? She has done nothing but fill your head with lies. She has done nothing but ruin you. All she gave you was deception and honour, and it has made you pathetically weak.”

            Still he hesitated, emotions he hadn’t felt in so very long beginning to stir.

            “Make your choice. You can have something greater, or you can remain weak for the rest of your miserable life.”

            Slowly, he turned his head to look at the other. Everything felt surreal, the rain and the mud and the sounds of battle. None of it felt quite as real as his response.

            “I am not weak.”

            A grin, wide and filled with razor sharp teeth split the other’s face, and slowly it began to melt away. Brilliant white shifted to one side, still drenched and surreal. The world around him came into focus as the remnants of the past washed away. The tree he had perched himself beneath was sagging, no longer able to keep the rain from falling through its leaves and dousing him in weighty droplets. Wildlife was nowhere to be seen, hiding away from the rain and the risks that come with it. Beyond the sounds of rain pelting the earth and trees and rivers around him, the world was eerily silent. Soaked to the bone and feeling the frost prickle at the edges of his skin, he stood. A sigh left his lips and he took a quick glance around. Behind him to the left he recognized the forests he had come from. Ahead of him to his right, a path only visible to his eyes, leading away from this sodden place. He would be unable to sleep with the rain coming down from above, and though the frost that threatened to coat his skin wasn’t a problem, it still made for uncomfortable sleeping arrangements. He began his slow trek once more, weaving in and out of the cover of the trees. Though he was a long two month’s journey away, all he could tell himself is that he would be home soon.

  
  


* * *

* * *

 

  
  


            Mud clung to his boots as rain hailed from the skies above. Deep in his gut he worried about the chances of thunder and lightning coming from the clouds high above, but they were not dark enough, nor was the air around them feeling particularly charged enough for it. Hopefully it would remain that way, as searching for a killer out in these woods would not be delightful when thunder and lightning rattled and crashed overhead. He was wound up enough as is. Beside him Zelda trudged her way through the mud, pulling a reverse sheepskin tight around her body. He too was doing the same, trying to avoid the wet and cold as best he could. Hiding beneath the stench of wool, the smell of petrichor hung in the air. It was a far more welcoming musk than the smell of sweating sheep.

            They had been out all day after Faron had returned them to the village. Still her words sat heavy in his gut, and both he and Zelda had agreed that today they would sweep the forest for any signs of him. They planned still to journey out northwest to the places Faron had spoke of, but they both knew they wouldn’t be comfortable enough to leave the village without making sure there were no signs of him lingering. Or the three strangers, Zelda added at the time. She too had been suspicious of them, however less it than Link’s it had been. Beyond Impa and the regions intelligent fauna, neither had seen humans or other intelligent life on the surface. If they weren’t certain that the lingering demons had left, they would always fret that there would be no village to return to.

            Thankfully the forests they wandered were barren, save for the startled deer or the sickly Wolfos. Besides another flood, there seemed to be no real threats to the village. For that, waves of relief flowed outwards from his chest. The fewer strangers left wandering in Faron Woods, the safer he could feel about leaving the village to fend for itself. Beside him Zelda stumbled, the sole of her boot catching in some particularly thick mud. He halted, waiting for her to pull herself free before the two of them continued in silence. The rain continued to fall as they wandered side by side, eyes searching the undergrowth around them. Nothing jumped out at them, nor did they really see anything of use. The wastes of ashes held no surprises, and neither did the distant clearings. The pathway to the Skyview Temple was clear, and the huge double doors were still pushed shut. A part of him realized that this place was the first place he had visited on the surface, and that the temple was the first place he had revisited in two years as his dread had started to soar. It had also been the first place he had encountered him. He shuddered, unable to so much as think the man’s name without feeling floods of anger and distress. He had first encountered him here. If only he could have killed him here. If he had, then none of this would be happening now.

            Trudging away from the temple alongside Zelda, he couldn’t help but cast his eyes backwards at it. Unlike it had been a week or so ago, the temple gave him no ill feelings. It was peaceful within its depths, and they wouldn’t find anything but dust in there. Their killer had not made a visit to this place. Once the sight of the temple was obscured by trees, Link turned his attention to the pathway ahead of him. In the distance the trees twisted along the path, hiding the eventual reveal of the white marble steps leading up and towards the temple path. It would still be some time before they would reach the steps, and by now the rain was beginning to come down harder. Soaked on the outside, the rainwater was slowly beginning to penetrate the layers of the wool, a feeling Link was not a fan of. A quick glance to Zelda told him she was experiencing the exact same feeling, brows furrowed, eyes tired and arms pulled tightly around herself with sheepskin in hand.

            They wandered for a few moments longer before Link felt a hand on his arm. He looked over to Zelda, and beneath her sheepskin she tugged on his arm, jerking her head towards a small overhang of stone. Beneath it the earth seemed dry, or at least somewhat drier than the ground they were walking on. Parts of him wanted to go on, to make it home and sleep in their own beds. Other parts of him knew he was too tired and his sheepskin was still too soaked to make it all the way back dry. They only way to make it home completely dry was to sit and sleep here. It wouldn’t have been the first time either of them have slept outside away from safety, and at least this time they had each other. Even if they were to be attacked, they would be safe enough with one another here.

            Together the two of them stumbled their way beneath the overhang, escaping the relentless rain and into a dry patch of grass. Link dropped his sheepskin from his body, and the cold struck him like a slap to the face. It would be too cold tonight to sleep without it. So instead he shook it out, flapping it around near the edge of the overhang and wringing what water he could out of it. Zelda followed suit, no doubt having the same thought process run through her mind. She pulled her Sailcloth from her belt once they had shaken out their sheepskins, and as carefully as she could she wrapped it around herself before placing the sheepskin back on. Watching for only a second, Link did the same. The Sailcloth was warm and dry, and gave him an extra bit of warmth once it was on under his sheepskin. It would reek the next morning of oily wool and sweat, but at least he was warm and drier.

             Zelda sat back against the wall of the overhang, and Link plopped himself down right beside her. Instinctively he leaned into her, and she leaned into him, both huddling together in hopes of security and warmth. He pulled his legs up to his chest, tucking them beneath the bulk of his sheepskin and Sailcloth, while Zelda stretched hers out in front of them. The cold of the air around them was still creeping beneath his sheepskin, but sitting out from under the rain and hiding beneath thick clothes helped to fend off the chill. A quick glance around told them they would be safe to sleep. No monsters, no wildlife, no demons. They could be safe.

            For quite some time there was silence, punctuated by rain splashing leaves and running down the edges of rock. The only thing to move were the leaves in the trees, glistening wet and heavy. A feeling of calm began to pool inside of him, long enough for him to doze where he sat. Zelda, however, had other ideas.

            “What happened back then?”

            “Huh?”

            “What happened? Why didn’t you kill Ghirahim back then?”

            Her question caught him off guard, and he stopped. He didn’t know how to answer that, or where to begin answering. For a few moments, his mind and thoughts raced in a cacophonous song before it settled enough to piece together his response.

            “I thought he was dead. He turned into this ink-like smoke and just kind of faded away. I thought I had killed him.”

            A soft oh was muttered from Zelda, and they both fell back into silence. This time the silence was loud and thick, no longer the comfortable silence they had shared only moments ago. Ghirahim. Something about his name unsettled him and stirred his mind and gut until they felt like a mush. Something inside felt like it was swelling, inflating like a blistering wound until the pressure was unbearable.

            “It was a terrible storm out there.”

            He didn’t need to look at Zelda to know she was just as startled that he blurted out as he himself was. But he couldn’t stop himself, his mind and mouth racing while his heart hesitated.

            “When Demise took your soul, he told me to face him like a real warrior or flee like an insect and he disappeared somewhere. Obviously I followed him through the weird goopy portal he left me, but the place was so peaceful.”

            Link spared a quick glance at Zelda. She was sitting there beside him, head turned towards him with an expression that was carefully neutral and eyes that couldn’t hide their curious hunger. An intense surge of self-consciousness blanketed him, but his mind and mouth pushed through it regardless.

            “He was like this big black stain in an empty world of sky. I don’t know what was beneath our feet, because the water just reflected the sky. And he just started talking about things I can’t bring myself to remember and the longer he spoke the more terrible the world around us started to become. There was a big storm that he seemed to summon from nothingness, clouds as black as his scales and water just as dark. And the whole time he was brewing this storm he was just talking about history and his goals and who remembers what else he was speaking of.”

            He looked to her again, taking in a gulp of breath before his eyes darted back down to the grass in front of him. Somehow it had become more fascinating than the familiar blue eyes of his dearest friend.

            “And then we started to fight. At first it was easy, and all we were doing was parrying and slashing and thrusting our blades at one another. But the sky just kept getting darker and darker and the lack of light from anything but his hair made it hard to keep fighting. He gave me a quick slash across my right arm when I was too slow to raise my shield, and I cut him right through some scales on his leg. I’d felt the bite of a blade before but not from something as wicked as that, it hurt so bad. My right arm was shaking the rest of the fight but I couldn’t let him know, so I kept fighting him.”

            Above the rush of his own voice he could hear the faint voice of Zelda, speaking his name lowly as if she were trying to get his attention but unwilling to lose this chance for learning more. Link didn’t quite register if she said anything else to him. The sky was beginning to turn dark and the sound of the rain was growing in volume.

            “It went like that for a long time, long enough that my arms and legs were starting to ache and slow down, yet he was still swinging and jumping and leaping like we were still in the first few minutes of battle. We were both getting really cut up during the fight, and I think he was slowing down too but he wasn’t showing any real distinguishable signs of it. Really I only think it because I managed to get a good deep slice through his torso, from left shoulder to right hip. He looked like he was bleeding everywhere but he still jumped away and summoned the storm again. He seemed to call thunder and lightning out of the sky itself to descend upon his sword, and he used the supercharged weapon to keep me as far away from him as he could. It was almost like he was using Ghirahim in the same way I was using Fi, gathering energy in him before sending it flying with a vicious strike, except his was nothing holy and more in the way of just an arching blast of lightning. And it hurt, it hurt so so bad.”

            Once more he could vaguely hear Zelda speak his name, this time her voice a little louder than before. Once more his mouth and mind ignored her, unable to stop his fervent story from the past.

            “He only struck me once, and he struck me where I had struck him, right across the chest. He made it as deep and as long as he could, and I don’t think it was too hard for him because it was only a second of direct contact between my chest and his blade before the electricity took hold. I think I felt my heart stop for a few seconds there, but I managed to push through it because he kicked me in the chest directly after and I think it restarted my heart. Every other time he hit me with just the electricity alone I only felt my arms and legs seize up a bit. At that point neither of us were doing so well, but at least I figured out I could control the lightning like him. If I hadn’t I might not have made it here.”

            Flashes of light danced behind his eyes, and the cold seemed to bleed into streaks of warmth. Sounds started dulling and sharpening and flashing along with the lights, blocking out anything else Zelda might have been trying to say to him. His chest was starting to tighten, as were his scars. They seemed to grow hot and tighten, pulling uncomfortably at his skin. His heart was beginning to race.

            “It took me a long time it feels like to get rid of him, to get him to the point of exhaustion that caused his slip up. I managed to knock him back onto his spine, and while he was down I took the lightning to my blade and used it to pierce his chest on the left side. He was trying to roll and I missed, but I still got him close enough to his heart. Or at least I’m assuming he had a heart. And then he kind of stumbled to his feet, swaying and shaking. Ghirahim’s blade faded into dust and Demise looked me dead in the eyes with those ugly, horrid red ones. He started talking again but I couldn’t hear him over the rain and thunder and the blood in my ears, but he was starting to look weaker and weaker and almost kind of sickly, and his blood was everywhere and it smelt so bad. Then I could hear his voice again and he cursed me in some kind of demonic way, saying he would be back for the rest of eternity and his hatred never dies and then he started to crumble in the way Ghirahim had, but he was staggering and cackling and instead of just fading into nothingness until he disappeared into the Master Sword, into Fi and-”

            “Link.”

            This time he could hear her, her voice strong and loud and clear, cutting through the battle that danced before his eyes. Suddenly everything was bright again, or at least brighter than the battle. The rain was gentle, the sounds of wind blew through wet trees, and a nearby stream trickled a little louder than normal with the bounty of the storm’s water. All around him everything was alive and healthy, he could tell what he was sitting on and the only view of the sky from here was straight up. Unsure of himself, he looked over at Zelda. She had her hand on his arm, gripping gentle yet firm. Her face was laced with worry. It was grounding to see her so close, so real, and the figments of the battle faded entirely from his mind. Noticing now that he was sitting up straight, Link leaned back, resting against the stone behind him and snuggling himself close to her. For a long moment there was silence, him staring off into the damp woods and her hand continuing to hold onto his arm. Eventually, however, Zelda spoke up.

            “You never talked about this before… Why are you telling me this now?”

            “I was fighting to save you. You have a right to know what happened while I was retrieving your soul.”

            His words flew from his mouth, calm and collected, unlike his earlier rambling. Once more silence fell across the two, and to his relief Zelda didn’t ask anymore questions. Instead she pulled him closer and hugged him tight, and he was more than happy to return the embrace until they both succumbed to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER IS THE CHAPTER OF WHICH I SHIT OUT SO MUCH WORLD BUILDING MAN I AM SO EXCITED FOR THAT NEXT CHAPTER I MIGHT BE ABLE TO SHIT IT OUT IN TWO DAYS. Well, maybe two days is a stretch at the moment, but I am so jazzed to share the next chapter with y'all, cause in my opinion this is where things start getting super wild. I just, really like to share my world building orz. Anyways I hope y'all enjoyed, and the poll from the last chapter is still open if y'all had a preference! Thanks for reading my dudes!!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WORLD BUILDING AND OCS COMING OUT THE ASS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As my two day late Christmas gift, here is Chapter 14. This is where shit gets a little crazy to keep up with I think.

            The light is bright here within the coliseum. In the vast centre pit, light was shone down into it, the source of it held up by several hovering in the air far above. She did not enjoy the feeling of the beacon beating down upon her, especially not with several thousand others gathered around her, seated safely in the darkness of the viewing areas. It was only her who stood here, hundreds of eyes picking her over like a starved mutt on a piece of carrion. Though she did not let her eyes wander to any of those who stared, she instead held gaze with the one seated before her in the darkness. Pupiless reds held onto crimson, the direct eye contact a fierce and unstable connection. It was as if she was judging her, red eyes gazing past mortal flesh and into spiritual being, criticizing and carefully examining everything that she is, was, and will be. She let her stare as long as she wanted, for she had nothing to hide in the face of the masses.

            Around them the masses begin to grow impatient. The silence between the mass slowly began to fade, first broken by a jumble of discombobulated questions, and slowly evolving into impatient shouting. Cries of anger and confusion burst from the crowd, rapidly becoming an earth-shattering crescendo of noise. She paid as little mind as she could, eyes lingering on the pupiless reds before her. For some time despite the noise their eyes remained on each other’s, staring in their own personal world of silence while the public shouted. The moment pupiless reds left hers, however, she knew she would do best to cover her ears.

            Her hands had just barely touched her head when a roar, echoing and violent exploded from the throat of the one before her in darkness. Even through her hands the sound hurt, but she pushed the pain away. The shouts and cries of those seated around them faltered and faded as the roar drowned them out, and once the roar had come to an end, the coliseum was once again filled with silence. She let her hands drop to her sides, a slight ringing forming in her ears. She had always been good at silencing the court.

            “Let’s continue with our proceedings once more, shall we?”

            Eyes of fire grazed those seated in the darkness, voice like crumbling mountains. The eyes came back to her, looking just as intent as before.

            “Tell us again, Nilr, what you saw upon the surface.”

            “We have a confirmed sighting of him, in the southern lands of the Floodwater Woods. He is wounded and a wanted man amongst the humans living there, but he lives, and he has made a leap into a new area, no doubt within the Floodwater Woods area once more.”

            Her voice, no matter how strong and convincing she tried to make it, still left those around her in an uproarious clamour. Many strong voices called out at the end of her words, each fighting to be heard over the other while softer but just as strong voices shouted their agreements. Something inside her boiled into an angry, impulsive rage, one that whispered intrusive, violent thoughts to her. She pushed that to the side. Hurting those gathered here for silence would not be a good idea. It would stain their already declining reputation and would ruin any chances of future leads and competition. Instead she stood silent, eyes never leaving the one before her. She didn’t need to fully see her to know that she too was beginning to feel the same. Running a tribe meeting like this with only bickering adults would be frustrating. Once more Nilr raised her hands and covered her ears, bracing herself for another inevitable roar.

            “One at a time! One at a bloody time! We are not snot-nosed cublings!”

            Though not as loud as the last, her snarl was still loud enough to bring back the slight ringing in her ears. Silence fell upon the coliseum once more, lingering for a few moments as those gathered tried to silently decipher who would go first. One Chief stepped forth faster than the others, stepping close enough to be illuminated by the red light flooding the centre of the coliseum. Silently Nilr snorted. It was that six winged old fool of the Gale, no doubt trying to sink his talons into somewhere they didn’t belong.

            “My dearest queen, it has been too long to keep this charade up. We cannot keep waiting for the snow to fall before we take flight. We must make the new proceedings.”

            Though his voice was smooth, it still grate oh so bitterly at her nerves. She scratched at the rough dirt beneath her talons, eyes now blazing, hot and angry on the Gale Chief. Briefly green eyes met crimson, and Nilr hardened her glare. Another Chief stepped forwards into the light, one that Nilr felt little for. A huge, lion headed beast with red eyes and battered, scarred flesh, all rippling beneath a black coat. The Pyre Chief.

            “Phowdad is right,” she began, and Nilr couldn’t stop the shudder that gripped every inch of feather and skin. “We have been Lordless for too long. Though we all mourn the loss of our most recent Lord, we cannot continue to pretend that he will return after such an absence. It is time that we find someone who will be a worthy Lord, and promote them to such a position.”

            “Vozem, you are too quick to leap to conclusions, as are you Phowdad.”

            A new voice called from the shadows, one that helped to soothe her tremoring feathers. She didn’t need the light to tell it was the Chief of the Pestilent Tribe. In the darkness she could see the vague outline of the pestilent man, scaled head bearing the sores and welts and stinking wounds. Old, oozing, and coldblooded, he stayed in his seat within the darkness. It was unlikely he had the energy to move.

            “This is not the longest time that a Lord has disappeared from our sights, or do you all forget of the Great Wickin? He was a beast who hid only in the room our recent Lord lives in, and he did not leave for ten years. No one saw him, and yet he still remained our Lord.”

            “But the Great Wickin was still commanding the Tribes from that room, and our last Queen, may she rest well, was the only one who knew that he still existed. This is not the same thing, Smestlum.”

            Nilr’s attention turned from Smestlum to the new voice, its owner hidden within the darkness as well. It was a voice she did not recognize, but it had come from the same area that the Abyssrian Tribe claimed. No doubt it was one of their lower Tribemates or Castors, one who had little authority to speak in such a matter. There was no sound to signal that there had been any discipline, but it was something Nilr didn’t focus long on. Anxiety was beginning to well up beside her own rage. More and more of the Tribe Chiefs were voicing their opposition against the retrieval of their Lord, even going as far as denying that he still lived. Almost as if on cue, Nilr turned her gaze to the section of darkness that had been particularly silent, despite their obvious opposition. The Chief stood from his section only a second after Nilr looked to them, and out from the shadows stepped the Chief she could not stand the most. A rotting beast, crooked and twisted horns jutting sharply from his skull just as his skull jut sharply out from beneath dead, cracked and peeling skin. Pupiless purple eyes caught hers, and she stared on in defiance. He sneered, baring his fangs to her before casting his gaze into the darkness.

            “It is my firm belief that a new Lord should be chosen. The fools of the Summoner Tribe are lying to you about this sighting, my Queen. This is all just a ploy for them to prolong their stay in power. They have held their power for millennia, and it is time they submit it to another Tribe.”

            Her boiling rage immediately took control of her, ignited by his words and her own hatred for him.  
“My Queen, we have had a confirmed sighting of the Lord, and another two pairs of eyes that can agree that he lives! The one who lies is Ralnor. He is the power hungry fool in this situation, my Queen! We are readying ourselves to go retrieve our Lord even as we speak!”

            Ralnor didn’t miss a beat in his retort, taking a new, more threatening step into the light.

            “My dear Queen, we all know the Lord was of great importance to both them and you. They are playing with your emotions to prolong their position as primary Tribe! There is no point in listening to their drivel any further, as the Lord is dead, and nothing can bring the dead back.”

            “He lives, my Queen, I promise you this! He lives and we have seen it!”

            “Would you rest this decision on the shoulders of a desperate, crying crow? She has power as the Primary Advisor. She is privileged my Queen, and wishes not to lose her power.”

            Vozem and Phowdad chanted their agreement in the background, to which Smestlum raised his croaking voice.

            “Do you trust the lies of power hungry cublings over the evidence these of the Tribe you consider flesh and blood bring you?”

            Nilr, who had been looking back and forth between some of the Chiefs calling out, turned her eyes to the queen’s. A look of exhaustion had begun to cement in her eyes, thinly veiled by anger and annoyance. A new form of anxiety began to pool in her guts, and she hoped to the stars that the feeling would not be true.

            “Silence! All of you, settle down!”

            She chose not to say more, but Nilr could tell that she wished to. Slowly, seemingly one by one, the Chiefs and the more uppity of Tribemates quieted themselves to listen to what their queen had to say. She sat there for some time, silence engulfing the coliseum as her red eyes searched not only the crowd’s but her own, almost as if she were seeking some kind of secret hidden from plain view. Every beast her eyes brushed over seemed to wince and flinch back from her gaze, but never did they lower their eyes. Ralnor met her gaze with a cold fire of his own, pride puffing out his decaying chest beneath the intricate black robe. Her eyes lingered on him, squinting in the darkness, before angrily moving onto the next. Each Chief met her stare head on, waiting eagerly to hear the words that she seemed to threaten would never come. Eventually she spoke, waving a hand in the darkness towards the section the Summoner Tribe had sat.

             “Summoner General, to the centre of the arena.”

             A collective sigh seemed to leave the opposing Tribes in one large gush of air, but in an attempt to save the face she had dropped to argue with Ralnor, she said nothing. Behind her she could hear the heavy thump of paws on earth, and the soft patter of them as they approached to stand by her side. Nilr made her move to return to her Tribemates, but a hand, thick and scaled entered from the darkness and halted her. She instead turned her full attention back to her, talons scratching nervously at the ground. Sol put a large paw on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it drop. The action brought her no solace in this arena, and her only response was to cease her scratchings.

            “Sol, General to the Summoner Tribe and stand-in for your absent Chief. Would you care to speak of what you saw upon the surface?”

            Nilr broke her stare from the queen to look up at Sol. Not a single bead of sweat matted his fur, nor did his eyes give way to any fear, doubt, or confusion. There was a strong look in his eyes, one that matched the stone they were coloured like. For a moment she felt relief staring at his calm exterior, but the feelings of anxiety came rushing back as a large tail flicked about in the dirt behind them, forceful enough to make the sounds of scattering dirt audible to the trained ear.

            “Three days back, we encountered a settlement of the long thought dead humans. They allowed us to linger on the edges of their settlement for the night, and in the morning were greeted with some of our Lord’s handiwork. He must have been injured. Two bodies, left in tatters in their own home. What blood wasn’t smeared on the walls and floor was absent from the bodies, and there were several bite marks. Flesh and ribs missing, useless organs thrown about-”

            “Any old low ranking beast is capable of devouring something so weak!”

            Sol shot a darkened glare out into the crowd, eyes picking out Vozem’s Advisor standing in defiance. Nilr watched as she met his gaze, and snorted as she near immediately faltered in her defiance and looked away. Seemingly contented with her silence, Sol returned his gaze to its original target, and Nilr did the same.

            “As I was saying, my Queen, there had been abandoned bodies in that little hut, ones that resembled his bite. He must have been injured recently, or else there would not have been bodies, and we would not be here in this petty squabble.”

            Several of the Tribes, Chiefs and lower ranking Tribemates huffed and hissed at him, and simultaneously at her. Unable to control herself her feathers began to stand on end once more, extending sharply at her scruff, shoulders and spine. Beneath their hisses she could hear some of the lessers make jokes, but she did her best to push them from her thoughts. That is not what is important at this time. Still her eyes remained on the queen in the shadows. A scaled hand pierced the light again, once more motioning for silence. Once silence overtook the Tribes, the hand dropped back into the shadows and Sol continued from where he had stopped. Absently she realized she had been so intent in her thoughts and eyes that she hadn’t realized he had stopped speaking.

            “Two days back the bodies were revisited. Tribemate Loh can testify and identify that it was our Lord who was there. Granted we were unable to catch our Lord in his flight, nor did he seem to see who it was following him. Our Lord lives, my Queen, and you have three sets of eyes to prove it.”

            “In all technicality, you three have no proof that it was our Lord.”

            In the corner of her eyes she caught sight of Sol turning his head sharply, looking over to face Vozem. Nilr turned to look herself, taking a step back for a better view. Both Sol and Vozem were glaring at one another, red on amber, silently dueling for dominance. Sol’s umber mane began to smoke, while sparks seemed to leap from the longer patches of fur on Vozem’s head, chin and chest. Nilr nudged him with her elbow, anxiety slowly increasing in strength, and Sol cut his stare to glance down at her. The smoke ebbing from his mane ceased, but returned stronger as Vozem spoke once more.

            “With all due respect to our Primary Tribe, any account of seeing our Lord is immediately invalid.”

            “And what brings such an accusation forth from your mind, Vozem?”

            Nilr winced as Vozem bore a toothy grin, turning her attention from Sol to their queen.

            “If I recall correctly my Queen, was it not Sol who took our Lord under his wing millennia ago to raise him as one of us? Was it not he who took care of the spindly man of blade, raised him like a brother, until he surrendered his position as Chief to him upon receiving the title of Demon Lord?”

            Once more Vozem returned her gaze to Sol, her grin quickly turning sour.

             “Any accounts that our dear Summoner Chief claims to be real could very well be a figment of his own imaginations, a desperate hallucination for something that may very well not be real. He is old, after all.”

            “And if I am so old, then what does that make of you? You are thrice my age.”

            “And three times as wise. Stand down, Summoner General. I am only pointing out the facts.”

            Nilr didn’t have to look at Sol to know that every hair was standing on end, umber mane beginning to spark and glow a brighter orange. Fear soon began to well in her gut. An angry Sol was not a Sol she was inclined to deal with, nor was she interested in watching what kind of carnage could be unleashed. All she knew was that it would not be good for either Chief or General. Ralnor, who had been silently watching the argument unfold, took another step forwards. Sol bristled more at the Rot Chief, turning half his attention to him.

            “Look at him, my Queen. Is this something that you want standing in place of our beloved Lord? A beast so quick to anger and so unwilling to inflict harm that he merely smokes his foes out of the room?”

            “I will have to agree with Ralnor and Vozem. Sol is not fit to stand in place of his Chief, nor is he fit to act as a stand in Lord.”

            Phowdad had raised his voice, inching closer into the arena just as Ralnor had. From where the Abyssrian Tribe sat, Nilr could hear the powerful hum of agreement from the gargantuan Chief. Much to Nilr’s grief, Sol whipped around to face the Abyssrian Chief, fangs bared and mane threatening to be set ablaze.

            “And what of you, O Mighty Quorsine? What say you in the face of my elder status?”

            “Elder status is not something that fits you,” the rich voice of the Abyssrian Chief sang. “Cubling status is far more befitting.”

            “Do you wish to come within this arena and say that to my face, you overgrown piranha?”

            Just barely loud enough above the squabbling breaking out from the Chiefs, Generals and Advisors, the sound of hooves on stone reached her ears. Nilr looked sharply towards the shadows where their queen sat. She was no longer sitting, pushing herself up from her shadowy throne and taking a step forwards, still hiding within the shadows. The shadows didn’t last long as sparks and soon flames erupt from her head, neck and shoulders, casting an eerie orange glow in the few feet around her. Guardians stood at attention, silent and stiff around their queen. It was a wonder they weren’t deaf. Nilr saw the build-up in the queen’s bare chest, and once more plugged up her ears, covering them as tightly as she could with her palms.

            A roar, loud enough to contest the largest and angriest Leviathan shattered the squabbling, easily drowning it out and silencing the bickering Tribes. This roar hurt far more than the first, easily passing through the meat of her palms and rattling her to her core. Loud, long, and demanding respect, the roar lasted long enough to fold her in half, curling in on herself in an attempt to escape the noise. No doubt that even those resting in the edges of the town could hear her violent call. Once her roar had finally died off, Nilr forced herself to stand straight again. Her ears rang loudly now, hearing sore from the volume of her call. Her queen stood there, strong and poised, the spitting image of her father and uncle. The late queen would be proud, she thought, to have a daughter so strong and commanding already, even if she were a little rough around the edges. Silence remained in the clearing as Tribes and hearing alike recovered, all attention turning to their frustrated queen. Soon enough she spoke again, red eyes burning holes into everyone she looked at.

            “I have grown tired of this game. I am a measly twenty three years old, and I am already more mature than the lot of you. These proceedings are tiresome and grow older than I. There will be no proceedings for a stand-in or new Lord as of today.”

            The relief that washed up within her stomach was soured as the queen continued, red eyes turning to glare holes into both her and Sol.

            “However, that does not mean the position may remain empty for eons to come. Sol, General of the Summoner Tribe and stand-in Chief. You and your Tribe have one week to retrieve the Demon Lord from the surface. If Krl’desh is not returned in one week, then we will hold proceedings to name a new Lord. Do I make myself clear?”

            Sol stuttered beside her, a noise that brought no confidence to her.

            “M-My queen, a week may not be sufficient to return our Lord back to his rightful spot. It may take-”

            “Do I make myself clear, Sol? I do not want excuses, I do not want lies. I want a yes or no answer. Do I make myself clear?”

            For a brief moment Sol was silent, the gathered Tribes holding their breath. Sol let out a defeated sigh and nodded his head.

            “I understand, my Queen. We will return Krl’desh within the week.”

            “Good.” Seemingly satisfied, her glare softened and returned to blazing through the gathered Tribes. “Should Krl’desh not be returned to his spot, we will proceed with naming a new Lord. This calling of the Tribes is now adjourned.”

            Almost as if on cue, one of the Guardians illuminated by her blaze came forwards, cloak in hand, and draped it around her shoulders. The flames on the queen’s back, shoulders and head extinguished soon after the cloak was around her, and with her Guardians in tow she turned to leave. Tossed over her shoulder amidst the sound of Tribes standing and leaving, she spoke to her and Sol one last time.

           “Before you leave tonight, come see me. You know where to find me.”

            And with that she vanished into the shadows of the coliseum, her army of Guardians following closely behind her. Nilr stood there in silence beside Sol, trying to ignore the distress that emanated off of him in waves. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t the least bit worried herself. They’ve come out of tighter bonds before, but a timeframe of only a week would take some sort of miracle. They had only just caught a glimpse of their Lord before he had leapt through space to disappear elsewhere. It was hard to track such magic, and doing so may take up a good portion of their week. There would be no hope finding him like that in time. Something touched her and Nilr flinched, feathers fluffing up in surprise. Sol had put another big paw on her shoulder, and she looked up at him. He was looking down at her, waiting for her eyes, and once he saw he had them, he jerked his head back towards the section their Tribe had sat in.

            “We should gather ourselves. We will need all we can get to bring our Lord back in time.”

            Nilr nodded absentmindedly, casting her eyes towards their Tribe. One by one from the shadows came the rest of their Tribemates, Kir in front and Loh lagging in the back. Nilr watched as they wove their way through the exiting crowds, feathers rippling and talons digging into the dirt nervously. Sol whispered something to her, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze, but she didn’t register it, unable to with wild thoughts racing and leaping. Kir, once close enough, took her taloned hand into her own, rubbing the thick scales with the pads of her fingers.

            “Do you think you can track his trail, Nilr? You’re the best tracker we have in our Tribe. Surely you could pick up the traces of his jump.”

             Nilr gave a gentle shrug, unsure of herself. Perhaps if they had a month more than just a measly week she would be more confident in her abilities. Tracking magic and its residues was difficult work. If there wasn’t a trace strong enough in the area, then there would be no hopes in following it. Another set of hands, rough from stubble threatening to grow over, wrapped themselves around her other hand, holding far more gingerly than Kir’s. It was Lurrdath’s; she didn’t need to look up to know. He was the only one with barren hands and thick fur covering his wrists.

            “What is it do you think that Mesriam wants with you? What do you think she has to say?”

            Sol jumped in before she could answer, and she was grateful for it.

            “I don’t know what she wants, but let us hope it is an extension for our search. She must want him back just as badly as we do.”

            “And what of the rest of the realm?” It was Loh’s voice that cut in now, though he refrained from touching anyone’s hands. “Outside of Smestlum, and that Tectonic Chief Nilr is schmoozing, the entire realm is set on a week for a new Lord. Even if we were to receive an extension, she would have to address the fact that the rest of the realm is not as willing to let this slide.”

            “What about Old Shuck? You are still in command of Old Shuck, aren’t you Sol?”

            This time it was Rarvash speaking, pushing his way to the front of their huddle.

            “Isn’t there something you can do to convince the realm that Krl’desh has returned?”

            “This isn’t the place to speak of such a thing, Rarvash. Only the Chief may wield Old Shuck, and I am no longer the Chief.”

            “But you are the stand-in Chief-”

            “I will not discuss this blasphemous thought, Rarvash. Do not make me address it here again.”

            “Discuss what blasphemous thought? The thought of you reclaiming your status as Chief?”

            Nilr didn’t need to look to know who exactly it was interrupting their talk. His voice soured her mood further and made the feathers on the back of her neck stand on end. Slinking into her line of sight was Ralnor, a sickening smile pulling his rotting skin too tight and fangs bared, a decomposing sludge sliding down their lengths. Lurrdath and Kir, who had been holding onto her hands released her, turning to face Ralnor with teeth bared and fur bristling. Smoke began to rise from Sol’s mane, and Ralnor only laughed in response.

            “Look at you lot! All you do is stand and spit, never willing to go the extra length. Are you really that insecure with your Advisor’s abilities, Sol?”

             The smoke that had begun to waft from his mane quickly halted, and Nilr let herself glance up at him. Standing tall and strong with eyes as fierce as the flames inside him, some kind of relief built up in her gut. For a moment she thought Sol wouldn’t respond, and by the look that had begun to spread on Ralnor’s face he thought the same. The souring look that soon followed brought a bitter satisfaction rising on her tongue.

            “I don’t think you’ve much room to talk, Ralnor. How many Advisors do you have now? Four, was it? If anything, I’ve more trust in Nilr that you do in any of your Advisors.”

            “You better watch your back, Sol.”

            “Or what?” Sol gave a strong shrug of his shoulders, looking off as he shook his head. A confident grin was beginning to stretch his jowls. “Are you going to sic your Advisors upon me? Because as much as I love subpar advice and healing as the next guy, I think I’ll have to pass in favour of my own Advisor. I only need one to get the job done right.”

            Rage had risen to Ralnor’s rotting face and he took a heavy step forwards, jabbing a large claw against Sol’s chest. Nilr watched in silence as Sol stood completely still, amber eyes never leaving the solid purple that blazed with anger. An anger of her own boiled within her, but she never had the chance to use it. With oozing mouth open, on the verge of hissing something to Sol, the sound of four men jumping and landing behind them in sync cut in, interrupting them. A shrill, ear piercing howl shattered the murmuring around them, calling attention to their Tribe and Ralnor. With all eyes upon them at the sound of the howl, Ralnor flinched, seemingly hard enough for a new bone to puncture the tight and delicate skin he had left on his face. The howl cut off once Ralnor was a step back, his rotted head swinging around in search of the source, and it grew into outrageous laughter, loud cackling coming from behind them. It was Trartom, no doubt alongside Soltz, Diwis, and Kin, perfectly imitating the calls of Old Shuck. Farther away Nilr could hear the choirs of laughter from the Tectonic Tribe and the deep chuckling of Smestlum and his Tribe. The voices of others in different Tribes rose as well, each in mocking of Ralnor’s scare, and despite being nothing more than a bag of rotting flesh and bones blood flushed Ralnor’s face, dyeing it an intense red. Seeing the Rot Chief as flustered as he was filled her with an immense joy, one that forced a soft chuckle from her throat. Trying to save face Ralnor took a step closer once more, eyes alive with hatred, and whispered a threat just loud enough to be heard over the mocking laughter.

            “If your Lord is still somehow alive, I will do everything in my Tribe’s power to make sure he never returns.”

            “I’d like to see you try it.”

            A fresh rage on his face, Ralnor turned and began to stalk his way back towards the rest of his Tribe, each of the rotting creatures standing and waiting patiently for him. Trartom was the first to start howling again, and Nilr couldn’t help herself but join in. Soon the entirety of their Tribe was howling at him as he left, and the Tectonic Tribe joined in on the chorus. The Rot Chief made his hasty retreat from the coliseum, his Tribe close on his heels, and only a few moments after they were sure the rival was out of earshot did the howling die down. Sol straightened his clothes and Nilr cast her eyes around the clearing. Other than the watchful eyes of the Tectonic Chief’s meeting hers, no one else was looking, each Tribe making their way to leave. Soon enough they were alone in the arena, nothing but the shadows surrounding them. With no one left to hear of their plans, Sol spoke lowly to their gathered Tribe.

            “Once our meeting with Mesriam is finished, we will be taking Old Shuck with us. We must find Krl’desh.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh, good ol' Mesriam. There she is my dudes. Sweetest Mesriam in the flesh. I had to put a lot of thought into how she could still be young but still exist but it works so here we go. Hope y'all are enjoying this sick ass world building because there is a lot of it. Maybe after this fic is all said and done I'll add in two "bonus chapters". One with the initial outline for the fic ((and there are indeed parts of it that have been changed. I think I can name about three so far)) and one for the world building of this Demon Realm cause FUCK I LOVE WORLD BUILDING AND I JUST WANNA SHARE IT!!!
> 
> So I hope the holidays were good to all of you, and I hope y'all are looking forwards to the next chapter!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now it's Zelda's turn for the bad memories she dun wanna share.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How long has this been in my drafts?? A month, maybe??? I think so, but that's not important cause I FINALLY BLOODY UPDATED HUZZAH!!! This was a long time coming, and I have had some hardcore writer's block. Thankfully another sweet sweet GhiraLink fic has kicked my ass out of the slump and now updating this story is good way to pass my time waiting for their fix to update LOL.  
> Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy the chapter cause BOI I tried my damnedest to work on it.

            Horns and scales, fur and fangs, skin and swords. Darkness ebbed around them, cloaking many of their features. Flames and sparks, rot and ooze, smoke and haze. All around him the darkness seemed to shift and flow with them, following them as they marched through the woods. Hooves, paws, and feet alike beat against the packed ground in a cacophonous rhythm, a melody something deep within him said he’s heard this song before. It was a song that rocked him to his core, one that reverberated within his bones and rattled his soul. It flooded his senses with anticipation and adrenaline, poured courage and wisdom and strength deep into the very essence of his being. It brought the need to protect surging forth, the need to fight for something bursting at his seams. With no sword or shield in hand it was unlikely he could pierce scales or carve through fur, cut skin and incapacitate his enemies, but that would not stop him.

             His body would not respond to him. He tried forcing himself to move, to punch a passing demon in the jaw, to kick a hooved one in the knees, to tackle a winged one to the earth. His body solemnly refused, allowing the demons to pass him by as they marched deeper into the forests. Unable to attack and protect, anxiety began to rise in his gut. Why couldn’t he bring himself to attack? He knew they were his enemy, he didn’t need any proof for them to be. He has seen their faces depicted on ancient murals and texts, he has seen what they can do first hand, he knows that their march now is more than likely towards destruction. Now he wanted desperately to attack these demons and protect the innocent from them, but his body refused his demands and stood still.

            Slowly but surely, curiosity began to rise in him as the demons continued to march past him. Where exactly were they going? They didn’t seem to care about him, and maybe they couldn’t even see him. Each and every one of them, all different from the last, continued their march into the unknown. Not a sound was uttered between the towering beasts, not a grunt or growl or word was spoken. Where were they all headed to in such a silence? Even the world around them was louder than the rhythmic marching of their hooves, feet and paws. The wind rustled the leaves of the trees, the sounds of owls crying and crickets singing, the sounds of metal and scales and claws clinking against one another. And yet no one said a thing. After the initial panic and anxiety, curiosity began to get the better of him.

            As if his desires had been heard by the gods, he began to walk alongside them, walking silently between a huge hooved beast with curling horns and a smaller yet still towering creature with bones protruding from the decomposing skin of its body. Their eyes, though unstaring as they were, seemed to hold some kind of desire of their own. Desire to see family, desire for bloodshed, desire for power, for victory, for the comfort of their own beds and the desire to just not exist anymore. Looking around at all the demons marching around him he could scarcely believe that such creatures could be so emotional, so human even as they moved to destroy. Something about the experience rattled him more than the song of marching steps. Something wasn’t fully right here. A part of him wishes he could raise his voice to speak to one, but something told him that he would neither have a voice to use and that the demons would not be able to hear his words.

            Still he marched with them, watching the way hips swayed, watching the way heads bobbed, watching the way scales rippled and fur flexed and scars tightened on flesh in anticipation. He marched with them, studying and observing the demons. The more he looked, the more and more human they seemed to become with their emotions. One, a dog headed brute, turned his head to glance back over his shoulder through the crowds. There was a longing and a sadness in his eyes that struck him as odd. Another one, far to his right, stumbled and sneezed. Looking behind him, the solemn face of a battle worn demon greeted him, eyes looking directly through him with a dead and empty expression within them. He studied her face for a quick moment, mesmerized by her. She herself looked so human, with pale skin and similar proportions. But she too was still a demon, her eyes a solid grey in colour and large pearly canines protruding from her lower lip. Something about them acting so human brought a feeling of dread to his stomach, and he cast his eyes back forwards, towards the direction they were marching in. Silence amongst the ranks settled again, blanketing the individuals gathers and enforcing them as a singular mind, an army marching to their final days. The silence was unsettling.

            Slowly, voices pierced the veil. Soft and grating and singular at first, but soon growing into a gentle crescendo of voices he did not expect to hear from such demonic features. Heads began to turn, mouths began to move. The demons in front of him, the dog headed brute and a strangely semi humanoid being began to speak to one another, speaking lowly in rattling, crashing voices that fell into tune with a surprisingly harmonious tone. Softly, back and forth, speaking of cuttlings and mates and home. No, not cuttlings… Cublings, they are saying cublings. For a moment, he realizes, he can understand them. They each speak in a tongue that is not his own, but he can understand every word they spoke as if he had known the language his entire life. Around him the others were speaking of similars things. Their cublings, of their nests and lairs and houses, of the King and the Queen and the coliseum. Foods they regretted not trying, words they regretted not saying, things they regretted never doing.

            The song of voices receded, the sounds of sad, melodious regrets wavering away as the song of hooves and paws and feet on earth reclaimed its dominance. Once more silence overtook the crowd, and once more they were nothing more than single mind. In the wake of their words, he could feel his head spin. It was something he had never truly considered. He had seen their faces, he had seen beasts like them, but he could never expected something like this. Remorseful parents, individuals yearning for the silence and comfort of their homes, demons speaking of their plans for the future and their hopes for their cublings. Granted it still did not sound much like what he had heard others say, but it still had such a chord of familiarity that it made his soul hesitate. How was he supposed to fight these creatures if they were so much like him? How was he supposed to fulfill his tasks laid out to him if he were to feel guilt with every step of the way, with every demon he struck down? They were almost too human to bear. He would not be able to strike them down as they were. They were much like him, even though they were so different on the outside. Perhaps this was all just a cruel trick? It could have very well been. He had never encountered something like this before. It had to have been a figment of his own wild imagination. But their voices were too real. The conviction, sorrow, grief, and regret behind every word they had spoken resonated deep within his soul. They were real, just as he was.

            As the marching seemed to carry on in an endless track, he couldn’t help but let his mind settle and stew upon the words, the feelings, the emotions he had seen. Parts of him knew this shouldn’t have been a surprise to him, parts of him saying that he has seen it all before. He couldn’t remember where he had seen it before. He could find no memories of ever seeing things like this before, of seeing the world like this before, of seeing demons like this before. Whatever his soul was telling him, he couldn’t help but believe it was trying to deceive him. He could not recall anything like this happening for all that he had lived through. And yet his soul continued to tell him otherwise. He tried pushing the feeling away, eyes returning to those who marched amongst him. With as many trees passing as they went, it was beginning to feel like this march would never end. Where were they going? What were they doing? What was happening that required demons of such numbers and strengths? Curiosity boiled inside him as they marched. He could not find his voice to ask them of such a thing, nor did he think anyone would be able to tell him anything, assuming they would even tell him anything. He doubted it was in their nature to share anything with him, but his doubt had been tainted by what he had witnessed.

            It wasn’t soon enough for him when they began to penetrate a village. White buildings, stark and empty stood stiff and strong as they passed. Not a soul was in sight in the village, and the army of demons continued onwards. The sounds of fighting in the distance soon grew louder and louder, steadily starting to drown out the sounds of the cacophonous rhythm of their march. Fear and anxiety pushed any curiosity he had from him, replacing it hard and fast with every step he took. Many rows of demons before him began to disappear, sinking just past his line of sight and charging with a howl. Steadily the charge of the rows crept closer to his. The dog headed brute and the semi human looking demon in front of him sank and advanced, weapons and fangs and claws bared and ready to fight. A shattering battle cry echoed from the throats of those before, and it was only a few metres before they each fell into battle with a human. The sight turned his blood cold, fangs and claws, weapons and shields all turned against one another. Blood was flying, painting the ground beneath. It was a miracle he hadn’t seen the blood beneath his feet during their march. The row around him hunkered down, and this time he could control his body. He threw a punch to the demon closest to his left. His fist passed right through him, and the demons didn’t even seem to notice a possibility that a phantom was punching him. The row bared their weapons and charged, an earth shattering yell exploding from their throats as they ran head first into the fray.

         He could hear the row behind him sink down and prepare themselves, and he moved fast to turn. Still weaponless he clenched his fists tighter and tried to throw his punches once more. None of them seemed to connect, each passing through their faces and never landing a solid hit. No one felt them, not even the glassy eyed demon he had studied behind him. Through his own shock he knew it was pointless, but as they charged into battle past him, he continued to try and fight them. Each blow never landed, his fist always passing through flesh like it would through a cloud. Another row sank down, readying themselves for war. He knew his punches were no good, and he could infer kicking and elbowing and kneeing would only yield the same results. As they charged he opened his mouth to cry out. Though he knew he was making sound, that his vocal chords were vibrating with intensity, not a single sound came from his mouth. The row passed him just as the rows before, oblivious to his presence and immune to any interference he attempted to cause. Instead he turned again, watching as they fell into battle where other demons and humans had fallen before them. Another row blew past him, and directly through him ran two beings he never dreamed of seeing ever again. Scales and flames toppled the battles, sweeping humans away like they were nothing more than fallen flower petals. White and steel blew through them just as he had blown through him, but instead of a cold, contactless touch he was skewering humans left and right on his blades, spilling their blood upon the earth and shattering the world as he knew it. And on they all continued, more demons falling into step behind the rows before them. Panic filled his gut. He couldn’t help them. He couldn’t hurt them, he couldn’t fight them, he couldn’t help them. They fell like flies in a strong summer’s drought, caught on fangs and claws and blades and war hammers. He has to help them, but he can’t. He needs to fight, why won’t the goddesses allow him to fight?!

            Blinding light filled the world around them all, and as he raised his hands to shield his eyes a loud crescendo of cries, roaring and rattling and filled with such pain and fear it nearly shattered his soul. The light didn’t last long, but it was long enough for bodies to start dropping. As the light faded he hesitantly lowered his hands, peering over fingers towards the source of the light. Demons of all shapes and sizes were collapsed or falling, some twitching and some completely still, weapons dropped and fur lying flat and tension in muscles relaxing. A few were still standing, but while not visibly wounded they still slouched and staggered back some steps as if they had been wounded so terribly. Only two remained standing as if nothing had happened, and before them stood four figures. Every fibre of his being suddenly started to churn, unease and nervousness and awe rocking him to his core.

            One figure held a tone of familiarity so sharp he nearly mistook her for his childhood friend. Hair that shone gold in the light, wings of smooth, white stone, robes so white they could have been made from the forest’s first snows, and jewelry hanging from the neck and wrists. The other three were unfamiliar to him, but still demanded the same kind of respect and familiarity. The tallest wore plated armor, wicked and striking in all of it’s silvers, golds and reds. Beneath armor, silky red and black striped fur was littered with deep scars that rose flesh and gnarled fur in strange directions and places. In her hands she held a small shield, intricately decorated with jewels and a curved blade that shone just as brightly as the fangs that usually hid behind lips. The shortest of the three wore robes not unlike her golden counterpart, but hers were a deep, rich blue, seemingly swaying and shifting like the seas that once covered the Lanayru sand sea. Feathers softer and whiter than snow covered her, and she bore no weapons, only silver talons and a gold, curved beak. The last of the three wore something he did not expect a being of great power to wear. A deep forest green tunic, golden chainmail peeking past the hems and a simple arrangement of thorns for a crown. Velvet black fur covered her from ear tip to toe, and eyes as blue as the sky pierced the black of her scalera. In her own hands she held nothing but a simple broadsword, one swirling with golden patterns and designs that appeared etched into the silver of the blade. All four beings had a singular horn, smooth and curved protruding from one temple to the other.

            For a moment, one of the demons hesitated, back hunching in a submissive style and grip on his blade loosening. He looked between all four figures and the hesitant. He seemed to have known all four of them, hesitating as if he were about to cut down family instead of the creatures he knew he despised. A look seemed to pass between him and the golden, and for a brief moment the world felt silent. The other demon gave no hesitance and charged, scales flared and flames billowing with power and strength. He had no qualms on interrupting this shared look between his blade and the gods, sword raised above his head as if to cleave the golden in two. The one in gold rushed forth with such ferocity and power that she appeared as if she were a part of a dream, nothing more than fluid imagination rushing past her surroundings like water over stones. A blade he painfully recognized came crashing against its obsidian counterpart, and for a moment the air around them seemed to be sucked away from the impact. It came gushing back fast, nearly knocking him to his knees. The one who hesitated lunged for her. Weak and unsteady on his feet, he too tried to lunge, trying his damnedest to intercept him before he reached her. It was a futile movement, as the other was stronger and faster, but something told him he wouldn’t have been able to interfere anyways.

            She was far more prepared than he was, shoving her scaled opponent back long enough to deliver the other a blow that knocked him away like a fly. While he skid back attempting to regain his balance, she turned to her scaled opponent again, just in time to parry his next strike. Once more steel sang as it clashed against one another, a violent song of war rattling him to his core. They continued to fight, the other rejoining the fray unhindered by the other three. For a moment he realized the other three weren’t trying to assist the golden. Drawing his eyes away, he realized they had disappeared into the crowd of demons, leaving the fourth to battle it out with two exceptionally dangerous demons. The song of godly war brought his eyes right back to the fight before him. Both Demon King and Lord were falling against her, a combined attack meant to tear her down. Yet she never faltered, blocking one’s strike, dodging another’s, parrying one and using the momentum of her parry to knock away the other. There was a particular grace in her movements that he could not shake his gaze from. No matter how hard they two seemed to charge her, she was always using seemingly minimal force to hold them off. Though he doubted a goddess would ever do something so strenuous without tiring.

            Knocking the Demon King back a few paces, she turned to face the Lord head on as he charged. One powerful hit was all it took to disarm him, and another sweep of her arm dealt the Lord near fatal wound right down his chest. He went flying back with the sheer force of the blow, crashing through demons who could still barely stand until his back met a tree. The resounding crack of wood shattering with the force of metal and flesh seemed to echo past the remains of fighting. The sound sent a violent shudder through his body, one that forced him to regain his footing. He had known gods were supposed to be all powerful beings with seemingly endless strength, but he had not been prepared to witness such strength utilized so swiftly. It was only moments after the crack of steel sang that the obsidian sword landed point down in the blood-soaked earth between him and the fallen demon in the remains of the tree. Heart racing and blood rushing he turned his gaze back to the fight just in time to see the goddess rend the larger demon in half. From here he could see the tip of her blade carving through flesh mere inches from the back of his shoulder and all the way down his body. The sight of the huge demon crumpling to his knees dropped his jaw, and he watched wide eyes as she lifted the beast up and tossed him down into a pit. He had not noticed the pit before in this carnage, but he knew exactly what this pit was. Stone wings unfolded and lifted her off the ground, carrying her effortlessly to the edge of the pit, She sealed the Demon King away from her perch at the edge of the pit, locking power, soul, and body for thousands of years.

            A streak of white and blue whipped past his sight, and he tried his best to follow its welcome distraction. Soaring through the air with unique beauty and grace, talons scored the earth before him around the ruins of the village. Waves of red and green danced in tune with her wing beats, swords cutting down any demons who remained to fight and chasing others off with melodic, ethereal war songs. The howls and cries of retreating demons could be heard just barely over their song, some dropping their weapons, others dragging downed comrades, and others abandoning all those around them. Amidst the chaos he caught his eyes seeking out the demon fallen in the wreckage of the tree. He still lay there, white just barely visible in the night light and the light of the dancing goddesses. He wasn’t the only one seeking him out, it seemed, as the goddess in gold approached the wreckage, blood of the fallen painting her robes, wings, and skin a sickening red. She stopped before him, peering down at the mess she had made. Though a billowing cloth covered her eyes and the emotions they held, an unbearable feeling of mourning and regret seemed to ebb from her. Hands cupped grey skin and lifted, bringing the fallen’s head into view. It was a sight he thought he would never see. Even from the distance of which he stood, he could see dull eyes and an expression trembling in untold agonies. Thin streaks of blood oozed from the corners of his lips and his nose. The goddess stood there above him, his head in her hands, his body unmoving despite the long, rattling expansions of his chest. Dull eyes lingered on the cloth, and shakily an arm moved upwards. She stood silent as the strength left him, and watched behind the cloth as his arm dropped back down to dangle at his side. She stood there for some time with him as the others toiled and slaughtered around them. She dipped her head suddenly, pressing pale lips to the paler skin of his forehead. Immediately life seemed to pour through him, his breaths no longer coming through effort and body no longer trembling. His eyes finally closed as she pulled back. After several moments of delicately holding him, she dropped him with little grace or care and turned. He could feel her cloaked gaze burn right past him before returning to him, almost as if she could see him. Despite every part of his telling him not to, he looked her in the eye. At least, he looked at the part of the cloth he assumed her eye hid behind. She did nothing, standing in silence as they both stared at each other. And she took off, wings carrying her higher and higher into the sky. The sound of grinding stones was quickly drowned out by a deafening rumble.

            Beneath him the earth seemed to heave and groan, shaking his regained balance from him. He staggered back a step, and the ground seemed to have been higher than it originally was. It lifted beneath his heel as the sound attacked his ears. He staggered forwards, arms outstretched to catch him if he fell. He was able to reclaim his balance, pushing himself to stand straight despite the pained quaking of the earth, and he turned. The sight left him breathless and slack jawed. A huge outcrop of land was ascending into the heavens, it’s climb sluggish at first as roots of trees tore up from the ground, but it was soon soaring upwards, climbing higher and higher and higher until it was nothing more than a speak in the sky. With the last traces of loose dirt falling to the earth, he couldn’t help but stare upwards into the sky like newly hatched sparrow. He could scarcely believe the great acts of divinity he had just witnessed, and instead of fear and anxiety, amazement and awe boiled in his gut. His left hand burned with a familiar intensity, one that had burned in his final stretch of his journey, but he did not dare look down at it. He had seen the mark glow before, and it was nothing new. He was far more interested in watching the speck of land he knew he would call home ascend past the clouds until he could no longer see it. From this distance it appeared as if it were merely hovering, the edges slowly vanishing from sight until the clouds swallowed it up entirely. Still he stared, eyes piercing the canopy of clouds. Fur suddenly blocked the way.

            Every fibre of his being jumped as a long black snout crossed his path and he stumbled backwards, eyes now focused on the being before him. It was the one dressed in a tunic much like his own, the other two standing still behind her a ways away. Despite the look of rage and anger that had overtaken her face during her fight, the smile that graced her expression now warmed his very soul. Standing so close to her now, he realized just how short she was in comparison to what she had first appeared. She was still ridiculously tall, taller than both Demise and the golden goddess herself, but she did not appear so threateningly big. Amidst the pure black of her coat he realized he could see flecks of smokey blue and even green scattered evenly throughout. Her eyes still shone against the rest of her, a blue so intense that he could hardly believe they were eyes instead of sapphires. When a pair of hands came to rest on his cheeks, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing his jaw against one. They were warm and soft, silken black fur brushing his cheeks and masking rough calluses. Still he looked her in the eye, and through the commanding aura she gave off, she seemed to like it. She barely had to open her mouth to let herself be heard, and the voice he heard was indescribable.

            “Of everything I had a hand in creating, you are by far my favourite. I know you will .”

            With a sharp yelp he bolted upright, sweat slicking his brows and breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Hands held tightly onto his shoulders, bringing him closer into what he could assume was a hug, but he didn’t quite register what was happening. Already bits and pieces of his dream were fading from his mind, but still he clung desperately to them, dragging what pieces he could keep back to the front of his mind, back to his memories. It had been such a surreal experience. Perhaps it wasn’t the worst of experiences, but it certainly wasn’t a positive one either. Incredibly cryptic, and of something he doesn’t remember, just as dreams usually were. He had never experienced or witnessed anything in the real world that was quite like what he had just experienced in his dreams, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to take away from the experience. The demons had been too human for his liking, that much he remembered painfully well. The four goddesses, however, hung in his mind before all else. Much to his anger he could not properly recall what they looked like, almost as if he had seen them through a cascade of water. Vaguely he could recall the similar features like select fashion choices, weapons and a horn, but everything else came out muddled. Despite never hearing them spoken, four names were burned into his mind, ones he didn’t even realize he was mumbling until a cool hand rest against his cheek.

            “Link, what happened? Are you all right?”

            With his mind stopped in its tracks and the initial shock of the dream wearing off, Link gave a little nod. It was just him and Zelda here, sitting beneath a small overhang with sheepskins and Sailcloths pulled tight around them. What had happened yesterday hit him hard, and he silently thanked anyone who was listening that the rain had stopped during the night. Moments passed as he gathered himself and the fragments of his dream, all the while leaving Zelda to sit and wonder what he was doing inside his head. In the corner of his eye he could see her open her mouth again to say his name, and he cut her off with a quick shake of his head.

            “No, yeah I’m okay. Just a weird dream.”

            “Another nightmare?”

            “I… I don’t think so? It wasn’t like the others, at least.”

            A moment passed, heavy with the weight of the unspoken question he knew was held on Zelda’s tongue. Parts of him hesitated, eyes cast down at the grass before him while the comforting grip of her hands on his shoulder slid down to one hand and held it, thumbs rubbing against his knuckles. His hesitance quickly faded as they sat there together, holding hands as the sounds of nature passed them by. Link looked up at her, looking her in the eye. Concern and curiosity mingled there, and it was a look he could not refuse. He dropped his eyes again, unsure if he could keep any kind of eye contact with her as he spoke.   
            “I was marching with an army… An army of demons. It was night time, and I didn’t know where we were or where we were going. It was all just kind of dark, but bright enough that I could clearly make out the demons around me.”

            “They didn’t attack you?”

            Link shook his head, grip tightening ever so slightly on her hands. “I don’t think they could see me. I tried to fight them at first, but I didn’t have any weapons and my fists went right through them anyways. I doubt it would have mattered if I had any kind of weapon or not. They just kept marching, and I guess I just kind of joined in after a while. And we marched for a long time.”

             A sudden shoot of hesitance stole his words from him, and as he struggled to find his words he glanced again at Zelda. Concern had begun to waver in her eyes, overpowered by an insatiable curiosity. For a moment he stopped, wondering if he should tell her any more than he already had. Zelda’s grip tightened on his hand, and he suddenly found his words flying from his mouth before he could restrain them.

             “I saw ruins of villages and demons talking like people, and I… I saw Ghirahim and Demise there.”

             A flash of recognition sparked in her eyes, but it died too quickly for him to be sure he wasn’t just imagining it there. He dropped his gaze before he could doubt himself anymore and continued his story.

             “There was a lot of fighting. Demons and people, people I’ve never seen, fighting for their lives and killing each other without any second thoughts. Ghirahim and Demise… They were doing the most damage I think, but then…”

             With his words trailing off, Zelda picked up the slack, all traces of concern replaced by anticipation.

             “And then?”

            “And then there were four people. I, can’t recall them well, but there were four of them, and they were way taller than Demise was. One in red and gold, one in green and black, one in blue and white, and one in white and gold. They all had weapons and this one, big horn that came out of the tops of their heads. It sort of looked like someone had lodged a hollow stone wheel in their heads.”

            Zelda’s grip tightened unexpectedly, gripping his fingers nearly to the point of pain. No sooner than had her grip tightened did it loosen, swiftly returning to the soothing motions of thumbs rubbing knuckles. He entertained the idea of looking up at her again, but something told him that whatever expression she wore now would only silence his story. He’d been holding the truth from his friend for so long that the thought of stopping seemed like a good one, but he knew he would have to share his secrets at some point, and there was no guarantee that everyone would accept them as is. He took a deep breath in and continued, no matter how much he thought he would like to stop.

            “They just… They came crashing down on the demons and obliterated them, killing those who fought them, and chasing away those who fled. They were so beautiful but so scary when they were fighting. I… I don’t know who they were but the one in white and gold did something to Ghirahim and Demise. I can’t remember it well, but Ghirahim was in a tree? And she cut Demise nearly in two.”

            He stopped himself from admitting that Demise had nearly cut him in half during their fight just in time. He had underplayed that deadly strike, and had it not been for a potion he had popped before the battle had even begun he could have very well died in that fight. That was something he knew neither Zelda or the village would ever have to know. It wouldn’t be good for them to worry about something from the past, and Link liked the reasonable peace they had.

            “She sealed away his remains, and she spared Ghirahim. But the one in blue and white, she and the other’s were busy. I think they were carving away chunks of earth as they were fighting. When the one in white and gold flew upwards the land went with her, and the other three stayed on the ground while this huge chunk of land just kept floating higher and higher and higher until I couldn’t see it anymore.”

            “Did anything happen after that?”

            Her question knocked him from his thoughts, but he didn’t linger on it. He tried to think if anything had happened after he had watched the land rise into the sky, but he couldn’t recall anything after that. He shook his head, trying to shake the nagging thoughts of something happening after he had seen the land disappear.

            “No, nothing happened after that. After that I woke up here with you. Why do you ask?”

            Link looked up at her, his story now finished with as much as he could remember. The look on Zelda’s face startled him. She looked like the way he imagined himself to look whenever someone described him after asking for a story from his journey. Pale skin, wide eyes, knitted brows. Something about his dream seemed to have rattled her, and for a moment he debated asking her if she were all right. Seeing her notice his concerned staring, she dropped her eyes to their hands.

            “Zelda, are you okay?”

            “I’m fine.”

            She seemed to notice how rushed her answer had been just as he did, and she shook her head.

            “No, I’m okay, I promise. Just… Thinking about Ghirahim again.”

            Link nodded. Her words just as unconvincing as his normally were, but he didn’t press her for more. He knew all too well what it was like to be hounded for more details about a sore memory or subject, and he wouldn’t put her through that with him.

            “We should probably get going.”

            Zelda offered him a nod, one as strong as a halfhearted nod could be. With concern guiding his actions he began to pack up their camp alongside her. Prodding for information could wait for a day after Ghirahim was taken care of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do y'all remember how in like, chapter 11 Ghirahim makes this miraculous distraction on the outskirts of the village for the patrolling knights so he can sneak his way back into the village to vore corpses? I just remembered while I was rereading it today looking up something for continuity's sake that the only reason he made such an easy sneak back in was because I had used a DnD roll bot to check to see if he would make it back in undetected for fun. Turns out I rolled a Nat 20. For whatever reason that is killing me and I am very tempted to let the roll bot decide a few more not so important things to the fic. Shit like "does Mesriam's skirt fly up in a crucial moment" or something of the sort LOL. Not really but something to that effect.   
> But anyways, thank you so much my dudes for reading this and sticking with it, you've no idea how much that means to me. Next chapter we go back to Ghirahim, so look forwards to that!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghirahim is having a really good time tbh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOI this was so hard to write tbh. Not only was the chapter slow compared to the other stuff, but the next chapter has WAYYYYY more fun shit slapped everywhere in it and I really just wanted to write that chapter and not this one, but you gotta stick to your guns right? I might also be a little burnt out from writing Ghirahim and Link and Zelda tbh. More on that later though. I hope this update didn't take too long, and I hope it's enjoyable. Thanks for sticking around my dudes!

            A thrum of power was all he needed to feel his best again. Whatever Light Magic had interfered with his magic was gone now, and the feeling of it all washing over him and pulsating within his core left him feeling truly alive and energized. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt in so very long, a feeling he had begun to believe that he may never feel again. Amazing how much he had once taken this feeling for granted. It is true that you only realize how important something is to you once it’s gone. He had no doubts that he would soon take the feeling of power and energy for granted once more, but for the time being he would revel in its feeling as he ran.

            Still within the confines of the trees, he didn’t have much space to work with any kind of attack, but what may have been a curse for offense was a blessing for agility and speed. He ran as fast as he could, blowing past trees and vaulting over undergrowth. Despite the burn of effort in his legs and stomach, he pushed himself to run faster, muscles working harder and lungs taking deeper breaths. The sight of blurring trees and growth as he weaved and dodged through them brought an ecstacy to his being, one that encouraged him to ignore any exhaustion that may have been creeping up within him. He could keep going. He had to keep going. If he stopped now he feared the unused energy he had would burn him up from the inside out. He could keep going, despite what his legs and lungs may say. He felt alive and well, and he wanted to see how far he could go before dropping once more.

            As rich a feeling as it was, running wouldn’t push him to his limits alone. No, if he wanted to push himself, he would have to use his magic. Sprinting at top speeds, Ghirahim cast his eyes to the sky above him. In this section of the forest the trees were stretching taller, the highest branches reaching for the heavens. Beneath the highest branches was a thick covering of other branches and limbs, a mess of a maze that he would have to traverse to truly see the sky. Flashes of the sun’s light flickered through the mess of leaves, shimmering to the eye like a river in the evening sun. Well, piercing the limbs and leaves of the canopy couldn’t be much harder than piercing the water’s surface, could it? All too eager to test himself, he slowed his run to a stop. A split second after the stop he lunged, magic building within the soles of his feet and launching him upwards into the leaves above. It was nowhere near refined and graceful. Thinner branches whipped skin and fabric sharply on his way up, and thicker limbs grazed and bruised his shoulders and arms. Piercing the canopy was a shock to his eyes, sunlight unhindered by the cover of the leaves stinging his eyes to the point of which he had to close them. For only a second he hung there in midair before gravity took its hold once more and dragged him back to the ground through leaves, limbs and branches. Several times during his descent did he hit branch and limb alike, body bouncing with the jarring force of crashing into them head on. Upon instinct he curled in on himself, arms moving up to cover his head, face, and neck. For a leap that only took him a matter of seconds to penetrate the canopy, falling to the earth felt as if the few minutes were more of hours. Quite suddenly there was nothing hindering his fall, and he struggled to kick his legs and arms back out. He just barely caught himself, landing less than gracefully on his feet and arms flailing to maintain his poor balance.

            As soon as his balance was returned to him, he hesitated. Casting his eyes up once more to the obscured sky, something within his gut soared to the surface. It was not graceful, that descent of his. He knew if anyone had seen such a fall they would have been ashamed of him, and he was ashamed enough of such a fall himself as is. It would need to be improved. Without his notice he was back to running through the trees, legs pumping and lungs heaving. Vaulting through undergrowth and bounding past trees, his eyes never left the sky. He was waiting, watching for an entrypoint that would allow him the greatest chance of a leap worthy to be considered divinity. The light above the trees flashed and dancing as he passed, none of them particularly striking or great enough to excite him. Anticipation swelled within his chest, his entire body quaking in excitement with every flash that passed. Brambles snagged on his ankles and overturned roots clumsied his feet, but still he kept his eyes to the sky.

            A harsh light captured his sight, and every muscle in his body flexed. Magic once again surged through his legs and down to his feet, lifting him off the ground so sharply that the change in wind caught in his throat. With light piercing his eyes, he kept his head tilted back towards the sky. Branches and leaves once more whipped his clothes and skin, but far less this time than the time before. His body penetrated the canopy once more and this time he refused to shut his eyes. For a heartbeat the world seemed to stand still, the leaves and branches still and the wind no longer shifting. Light seared his eyes, stinging no matter how tightly he squinted. Even as such, the world held just as much beauty as it did all those eons ago. The silence above the canopies soothed the wild excitement pulsing in his chest. As soon as the world began to shift once more everything came rushing back. This time magic built itself in his core, the hidden stone humming in silence as it began to manifest his wishes.

            His feet hit hardened magic, and with only a brief moment to right himself he was off, racing across the clear diamond tiles he willed into existence. He could feel each piece of the tile break away behind him and come rushing back before him, settling itself and hardening just long enough for him to sprint past before repeating the cycle all over again. The winds above the canopy were stronger, pushing harshly against him, and yet he continued to run. He forced himself to keep going, to push himself harder, to run faster, to reach the edges of the forest before he tired. Birdsong became muddled beneath the roar of rustling leaves and rushing wind, and the sun beat down against him as hard as it could. Already the temperature in his core was beginning to rise, but he pushed the thought away. He could easily remedy that for the time being with a little bit of willpower, determination and magic. Pulses of cold began to race through his core, throbbing in time with his long strides. He would hold that cold there until his magic left him, exhausted from a day of pushing himself. For now, however, he would enjoy it as he raced above the trees, the wind fresher than below the canopy and body finding a renewed vigor in the thrill of his magic. Oh how he so dearly missed this feeling.

            Dashing along for some time, it eventually became clear to him that he would have to continue his own excited dash from below the canopy. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the unfamiliar yet oh-so-identifiable call of a bird they did not possess in the Demon Realm. Recognizing the potential danger, Ghirahim allowed the tiles from beneath his feet to vanish. For a few ungainly moments he was still running in mid-air, but as momentum began to slow his altitude began to descend. Quite suddenly branches and leaves met his legs and feet. Heart beating in his throat, he was determined to redeem his earlier descent. He kept his running motion, feet catching on branches every so often but unable to get a fair hold. For a moment he believed himself to tumble back to the ground like a sack of soggy potatoes once more until a foot caught on a thicker limb. Without hesitation he shifted, pushing off of the limb with his foot and beginning his proper acceleration once more through the trees. Though still incredibly difficult to see, Ghirahim managed to connect his foot to a limb once more, pushing off of it just as he had done to the limb before it. Awkwardly he began to descend through the leaves and branches, catching one limb after another beneath his feet as he began to gather a rhythm for it. Though not nearly as swift as his running had been above the canopy he continued to run, weaving through branches and limbs towards the earth. This was truly an improvement of his earlier descent. No tumbling, no crashing, no bruises, just a speedy skip through the cover of the leaves.

            Not soon enough the forest floor came into sight, creeping closer and closer with every leap down the trees. It didn’t take long to find a suitable break in the leaves and Ghirahim leapt into it, legs outstretched and bracing for the impact. The connect of his feet on the ground was a hard one, sending a painful ripple up through his ankles and legs and torso, but he’d be damned if he let it stop him. As soon as his feet had made contact he shifted to a higher speed, legs working just as hard as they had been earlier. The transition from tree jumping to forest floor sprinting was a smooth one, and no doubt his safest choice of action. Thunderous wing beats whipped past him over the canopy, muted by the shivering trees. Had he lingered above the canopy any longer he hadn’t a doubt in his mind that the sky brats would soon be after him. A lone human on its own was easy enough to deal with, but mounted and in groups was something he would not be willing to face after having just been returned to full strength. So below the canopy he continued to dash, vaulting over undergrowth and weaving past trees as he had been doing in the first place. Adrenaline and ecstacy pulsed in his core once more as another three birds flew over the canopy, two of them squawking as they passed. Perhaps the curiosity was getting the better of him as the birds flew out of earshot. He wanted to see where they were going, to know what they were doing. Without thinking he launched up towards the canopy once more, the temperature of his core slowly beginning to rise despite the effort to keep it cool.

            Once more he was whipped and bruised on his way up, but he had no difficulties piercing the canopy. With what little time he had above the reaches of the leaves he scoured the sky. In the distance to his left he could make out the four distinct shapes of the birds and their riders. Green, yellow, blue, and grey, all flapping and flying far in the distance. Wherever they were headed, it didn’t seem to have any connection or relation to himself. He could just barely make out an empty patch in the forest canopy in their direction. For a moment he found himself intrigued by what might be over in that direction if four of these skybound brats were headed there. As soon as his legs and feet met leaves, however, he was no longer interested. He had things to do and places to be, and he wasn’t about to risk not being there all for a little bit of irrelevant curiosity. Copying his descent he had made prior, Ghirahim leapt through the trees and their branches with long, magic induced jumps. This descent was shorter than the last as he quickly grew accustomed to the motions required to fall, and soon enough he was back on the ground, legs pumping beneath him once more.

            A breeze fresher than the calm air currents circulating in the trees touched his nose. He was nearing the end of the forest, or at the very least he was approaching a larger than average clearing in the trees. Breaking the steady rhythm of his breaths, he took a sharp breath of the air around him. Faintly beneath the stench of trees and rotting leaf litter he could smell fresh air, wider plains, damp grass and wet mud and stone. Something about the smell of the mud and stone excited him more than the idea of escaping the confines of the forest. The sudden feeling of physical and heat exhaustion answered his question as to why he was excited. He had been so interested in the travelling humans and the smells around him that he had forgotten both his own growing exhaustion and the temperature of his core steadily rising. He told himself it was too soon to stop for a rest. He couldn’t stop now, not when he was so close to finally exiting the forest and leaving these goddess worshipping rats behind him. The farther he ran, the closer the smell of freedom became. Light slowly began to turn bright, the filtering of the trees weakening as they began to sparsen and shrink. For a brief moment he could see the plains from between the trees, and excitement began to take hold of him once more. He was almost there, almost there! Only a few more seconds of running and he would be free of the forest!

            Perhaps in retribution for allowing him an escape from Faron only the day before, Lady Luck was willing to make a fool of him. Ghirahim’s heart leapt into his throat as his legs caught in a particularly nasty snarl of bramble. Without thinking his arms came up to shield his head and neck. He fell fast and hard, the motion of his run stopped so suddenly with the momentum nowhere to go. Pain rattled up from his wrists and elbows and shot through his shoulders, neck and torso. It took everything he had to not whimper and hiss from the pain lingering in his shoulder. Absently his mind brought him to a memory of something similar. Though the pain his shoulder still lingered, he couldn’t help the light hearted snort that escaped him. Had he made such an amatuer mistake during his own Rites of Passage, he had no doubt in his mind that his entire tribe would have come up to him and knocked some sense into him. He could almost hear their voices, asking him what he had done, laughing at his fall, asking him if the dirt and brambles had tasted good.

            Careful of his wounded shoulder, Ghirahim slowly pushed himself to his knees. Thorns dug into his skin as he shifted, and he turned his gaze over his shoulder to look down at his legs. The brambles had wound themselves around his legs and had entangled themselves, pulling tighter against his skin the harder he pulled. A sticky and prickly situation to pull them from his legs, but nevertheless a simple task. Foliage was never a real or true threat, and the new and sore pin pricks on his legs and hands would be fine by the time the next morning came around. Ghirahim pushed himself to his feet and began wandering out to the last dwindling trees of the forest. All over his body felt sore and exhausted, though it was not a sore and exhausted that was necessarily painful. Perhaps he had pushed himself enough this day, what with his ceaseless sprinting and insistent usage of his own magic to the point of fatigue. Perhaps he is a little rusty since his last few days spent wandering two years ago, but at the very least he wasn’t completely useless when it came to power and stamina. It would just have to be something he would work on until he could do it as if nothing had happened in the first place. 

            As soon as the last tree was behind him Ghirahim couldn’t help but stretch his arms into the air. Every step brought him further away from those skybound brats, and every step brought him closer to retrieving enough reinforcements to absolutely decimate the village those skybound brats had constructed. Although he was nowhere near his current goal. Before him stretched a field, arguably just as large if not larger than the forests he had left. Rolling hills and tall grasses littered the path before him, parted only by the streams and rivers trickling through the valleys between hills. Beyond the fields, far in the distance sat the red giants of the Eldin peaks, the largest of them glowing faintly with the heat and light of lava. Beyond that would be a mountain range he would have to cross, and beyond that another plain, this one filled with glittering ponds so still they reflected the sky like mirrors. From there he would only have to tackle the simple matter of locating the entrance to the ruined shrine. So close yet still so very far away. A quick glance at the sun told him he would not have natural light to guide him should he continue on much longer. The sun had swung from high in the sky to leaning against the western horizon during his run without him noticing. Perhaps he had been too focused on running to notice just how quickly the day had passed, but that wouldn’t stop him from continuing onwards. His exhaustion, however, would greatly impede his progress. Throwing his eyes across the plains before him once again, Ghirahim’s eyes landed on a river a few hillsides away. A thirst he did not realize he had surged forth with great force, and without hesitating he began to make his way towards the river.

            His legs felt just as sturdy as the gelatinous flesh of a Chuchu, and he tried his damnedest to ignore how pitifully they shook. Stamina was something he would really need to work on if he were to rid himself of the shaking. Perhaps he would try to push himself harder and for longer once he had gotten some form of rest. The increasing ache in his legs as he reached the river only further justified his desire for more stamina training. Standing before the river, a small tide of shame lapped at him from his core as his legs burnt and shook and while his heart raced in his chest. With little to do for it today, Ghirahim knelt before the river and stooped to drink. Compared to the heat in his core the river was cool, soothing the irritating heat that had built in his core as it swept passed. He spent a long time there, kneeling by the river with the lower part of his face submerged in the water, drinking as much as his body would allow him to. Eventually he drew his head back, water streaming from his cheeks and jaw and trickling from his hair where the edges had been dragged through the current. Already he was feeling better, the temperature in his core dropping thanks to the water, but it still did not remedy the shake in his legs and the burn in his muscles.

            Sitting back on his knees, Ghirahim turned his eyes to the sky. Already the blue that had been there before was emblazoned a bright array of reds and oranges. Purples and blacks crept down from above, chasing away the brilliant assortment of reds. Clouds inched across the sky like black and orange tufts of cotton, and a gentle breeze blew past him smelling strongly of wet sand, dry grass and the nearby forests. Perhaps by nightfall he would settle himself down for the night. All over the plains crickets began to emerge, each singing the quiet songs of twilight. While not particularly melodic, it would provide at least a decent white noise to suffocate his thoughts.

            Caught up in the wildlife around him, the sounds of thundering cloven hooves and the unmistakable calls of wolves. His curiosity piqued, Ghirahim pushed himself to his feet and began to wobble his way up the hill across the river, giving no thought as the water soaked his legs on the way over. Atop the hill he could see a relatively flat stretch of the plains, the river he had drank from carving its way through the grasses. Near the river ran a small pack of wolves, four to five at most, with each giving chase to a cervus species. Faron elk, if he recalled correctly. Several elk ran about the field, dodging and winding their way through the grasses as wolves nipped at their legs. Momentarily the nightmare of the great beast nipping at his own heels surfaced, but he pushed the thought away. With his shoulder still wounded and in pain, he would need more metals to heal it. This time around he would not be the chased, but the hunter. Watching the wolves and herd swing about the plains, Ghirahim settled on the base of the hill he had stood upon. The two groups seemed to enjoy swinging by its base, and it would be there that he would wait for them to pass him once more. With their backs turned he descended the side of the hill, lowering himself in a crouch just low enough to hide within the tall grass. White would be easy to spot on the horizon in this light, and he needed the element of surprise. He didn’t quite feel up to chasing them all around the plains, not with his stamina so poor.

            As soon as he was situated at the base of the hill he could hear the sound of hooves drawing closer. These wolves certainly did not disappoint with their punctuality. Hunkering down even farther in the grasses, Ghirahim summoned forth a small blade, much to the exhausted protests of his core. One blade was all he needed to dispatch an elk. They were large and powerful, but nowhere near as strong and capable as he. As the first of the elk drew nearer, many of them split off and swerved. No doubt they were nearing the point of which they could smell the still semi-wet blood on his shoulder. The barks and snarls of the wolves intensified for a mere moment, echoed by the loud, bugling call of an elk. With his heart climbing into his throat, Ghirahim waited in silence. The sound of hooves continued to rumble ever closer, snarling following closely behind. Hang onto yourself, keep yourself calm, just keep waiting, just a little closer-.

            With all the strength he could muster he threw himself forwards. His shoulders and chest hit the broad barrel chest of the elk and sent ripples of dull pain spreading his body. The beast tumbled and crashed to its side, its calls becoming more and more frantic. Ghirahim didn’t hesitate on plunging the small blade in his hands into the jugular of the downed elk, and just as he did snarls and barks fell upon them both. With teeth sinking into his prize, Ghirahim grabbed the nearest wolf by the back of its neck and squeezed. With little effort he snapped the bone in its neck, the rest of the body quickly falling limp. With one down he reached out to another with his other hand, abandoning his blade in the twitching elk’s neck grabbing at the snout of another. By now the wolves seemed to realize that something was happening, and the snout he had reached for was pulling away sharply. It didn’t stop his momentum, and still he lunged forwards, grabbing hold of the retreating snout and crushing it in his hand. The wolf yelped through its breaking snout, and without thinking Ghirahim held tighter and swung, using the wolf as a simple makeshift weapon by hurling it full force into one of its companions. Both wolves hit the each other and the ground hard, hard enough that neither of them moved afterwards. The final wolf, seemingly learning its lesson, moved to flee from the scene, the odds of keeping the kill for itself dwindling by the second. Ghirahim felt no mercy for the beast, and upon ripping the dagger out of the now still elk’s throat, whipped the blade at the retreating wolf. A resounding crack echoed through the air as the dagger sank into the back of the skull and the wolf fell, crumpling into the earth and skidding to a stop.

            Silence filled the plain once more, complimented by the distant sounds of elk fleeing and the overwhelming stench of blood coating the area. With all said and done, he couldn’t help but look at the bodies of the wolves scattered around him. Mutely he observed them where they lay, crumpled, battered, and broken. Somehow it didn’t seem to connect with him that only moments ago all four of these beasts had been alive, and now they lay here, lifeless and still. The one he had killed first still had its eyes open, the brows still furrowed and teeth still bared. His eyes lingered on the wolf’s, studying them closely as if he hadn’t seen them before. This one had been young, its eyes still tinged with a lingering blue. For the most part the eyes were green, but wisps of blue still held in the iris where full maturity had yet to take place. A sour feeling swirled within his stomach and it didn’t require much to know why it had risen. Instead he tried to push the similarities away. The thoughts rose back as soon as he pushed them away.

            What separates man from beast? Of course there were the obvious differences. One was hairless except in certain spots, walked on two legs, had a flat face instead of a muzzle, had no claws, no fangs, no poison or paralytic or weapons. Man was fragile compared to a beast. They had thick fur from head to tail, had fangs and claws, had eyes far more sensitive than a man’s and was a beautifully crafted killing machine. And yet it was always man who came out on top. He was unwilling to peg their success on their intelligence, as compared to what he has seen they were both thick in the skull. Beasts had every advantage over man, and yet they lay here, dead and fragile. Perhaps it was tenacity? But then again he had seen humans give up as soon as they started. Many did not have tenacity in their blood like beasts did. From every angle he looked at, man were always weaker than beast. Why then, did they always survive, always persist, always interfere?

            Bitter from his train of thoughts he turned away from the wolf. This was no time to be pondering the statistics of the human existence. He had things to do, places to be, armies to gather and villages to decimate. These thoughts could wait until he had achieved his goal. For now, it was time to collect the materials he needed to seal his shoulder wound shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It always comes back to vore for Ghirahim. At least this time he's just eating an elk and not a person lol. I will be brutally honest, writing him jumping around and running midair just made me feel like a weeb writing bleach and naruto fanfiction again. THANKFULLY I never posted those cause they were god awful but I some crazy wild flashbacks to my weeb days tbh.
> 
> With regards to feeling burnt out about writing these dorks, I'll let y'all know right now. I am NOT abandoning this fic. I made it this far in the fic, and I'll be damned if I let it drop flat on its face.
> 
> Instead I might actually write another fic as I write this one, something to keep my mind fresh and my energy focused. I saw no one had any real opinions on what kind of fic I should write when I posted that poll I-don't-know-how-long-ago, so taking that fact to heart and in light of some furry yiffing dream I had about a week or so ago, the fic I'll be working on alongside this is none of the above. It's nameless right now, and without a proper outline, but all you gotta know is that it's a part of the possible trilogy of JCALM, except instead of taking place like three to nine months after the events of JCALM it'll be I-don't-know-how-many-years-long-thanks-nintendo AFTER the events of JCALM and the possible sequel I was planning to throw in there. There would be no spoilers for JCALM at least, and very minor spoilers for it's planned sequel, but at this point i don't think it'll matter much because it's destined between a boi, his imp, and not-so-frozen frosty giant. It'll be good, for both you and I I hope.
> 
> ALSO BEFORE I FORGET TO WRITE THIS, TEENY BLUE ROBOT, I WAS STRUGGLING SO HARD AND YOUR COMMENT REALLY KICKED MY ASS OUTTA THE GUTTER SO THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR COMMENTING AND TELLING ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF MY FIC I APPRECIATE IT MORE THAN YOU PROBABLY KNOW. I hope what I hold in the future for this fic is to your liking my dude!
> 
> Thank you all again for sticking around with me for this long. I really and truthfully appreciate every moment you guys are there with me.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fight, a scramble, abandonment, and an absolute mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOOOOOO BOY HOLY FUCK THAT WAS A LONG WAIT. I am super sorry about the three month wait for this bad boy, and hopefully it's bad in the cool way and not the actually bad-and-not-fun-to-read way. I'm so sorry it's taken me this long to post this chapter, but it is here, she is done, and hopefully I can proceed with the next chapter with a bit more of a punctual manner.  
> If y'all are interested, I'll let y'all know why it took me so long AFTER the chapter, cause I'm sure you all want to read it before listening to me babble. Hope y'all enjoy it!

            Sol’s eyes were plastered to the ground where Nilr’s hands were meticulously placed. The earth between her hands swirled in sluggish circles, dirt stirring and broken twigs shifting. Barely visible vapours came from them, vapours that made the fur on the back of his neck and spine rise. Slowly but surely the vapours collected from the debris shifted, sitting just above her hands. Sol knew the magic she used well, watching her efforts to track their quarry. Tracking someone through a leap through space was a difficult process he knew, and it required a significant amount of time and power to complete. He had seen Nilr train herself near religiously on the process for several decades, learning each of her Tribemate’s magic signatures and using all of her might to draw the magic out from both the initial jump spot and the landing point. Drawing the landing point signatures to the jump spot meant a trail, and with a magic trail to track they could eventually find a real and physical trail to follow. Seeing just how many vapours of the magical residue she was collecting, he couldn’t stop himself from blurting his anxious question out.

            “Can you tell where he went?”

            Nilr’s eyes never left their spot on the earth, but Sol knew as soon as he asked he had struck a nerve with her. As skilled as she was with her magic, he knew it would be some time still before she could find him.

            “I might be able to if you were to stop buzzing over me and asking me where he is every six seconds.”

            At the sound of bitter tension in her voice, he ducked his head, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

            “I apologize, I just-”

            “You’re anxious to find him, I know. We all are.”

            Silence settled between the two for a brief moment, the bitterness in her voice fading. She too was anxious to find him. She was good at concealing her feelings from him, but he knew she felt just as antsy as he. Their silence was disturbed, however, by a low yet loud murmuring from the ten others behind them. Annoyance built up inside him, and he didn’t need to look at her to tell Nilr was feeling the same, the tension rising in her voice again.

            “Though it is believable that some of us are more anxious to find him than others.”

            Sol grunted his agreement, avoiding a glance over his shoulder.

            He didn’t need to look to know behind them stood the ten others they had taken with them. Lurrdath, Rotas and Kir stood in a circle directly behind him and Nilr, the three of them mumbling softly to themselves. Normally he would have left Lurrdath to command in his stead, as he was one of the few of his Tribemates he could truly tolerate with power, but in light of the other seven scattered beyond them he would need all the help with control he could get. Beyond the three was a congregation of seven demons Sol would never usually allow to linger alone together for extended periods of time. He could hear the twins Trartom and Diwis cackling with one another, though over what they were laughing about, Sol would never know and would never care to know. Sarith and Loh were speaking loudly to one another over to the right of the twins, talking of foods they were going to try and napping spots they yearned to rest in when they returned home. Arguably the worst of the groups were Soltz, Vahrallo and Kin farther behind the groups. They, for whatever reason, had come with a few bones and had decided a quick match of Snap Bone would be appropriate. Why they were playing games meant for cubblings during a search party was beyond him, but the amount of noise they produced with their laughs and the sounds of shattering bones was more than enough to set him on edge.

            Turning for a moment to look, Sol could see that they were all where he had assumed them to be, each being just as obnoxious as they had made themselves sound. A quick and loud hiss left him, escaping through the cracks between his teeth. The sound momentarily caught the attention of the ten demons behind them, and with a quick motion of holding his finger to his lips, the groups all quieted down. Lurrdath seemed more embarrassed than ashamed as he avoided Sol’s gaze. Perhaps it was about being caught failing to control the seven headaches, but Sol didn’t linger on it. As long as he tried to control them now, he could care less. Before turning fully back to Nilr, Sol let his gaze shift to the beast standing a few feet away from them.

            Old Shuck stood in silence between the trees, all three heads lowered to the ground and muzzles digging into the earth. With the ten silenced Sol could clearly hear him tearing up the roots of the grass, grazing silently and without disturbance. He watched as the great beast sniffed out larger tufts of grass with all three heads and shuffle over to them, ripping up the blades. It was always interesting to see the great beast work with all six eyes hidden behind blinkers and blindfolds, even if he was just nibbling at the grasses beneath him. If anything, Old Shuck was the most competent of all of the gathered demons. Then again, perhaps he had the unfair advantage. He did possess three brains after all.

            Eyes returning to Nilr, a slight feeling of relief washed over him. She had continued to collect more of the residue when he had looked away, enough for the vapours to have a significant pull to them, however weak it was. Ideally the process wouldn’t take more than another half hour, and by that time Nilr could rest for the remainder of the day and they could follow the trail to the landing spot. It wasn’t hard to tell that fatigue was already creeping over her. Her breaths were more laboured and her arms shook, though her hands remained still. A look of intense concentration crossed her face, and sweat was beginning to form on her brow.

            “How are you feeling, Nilr?”

            “Like a chipper young sparrow. How do you think I feel?”

            Though there was a tired snap in her voice, Sol couldn’t help the chuckle that left his throat.

            “How much longer do you think it will take?”

            Nilr shook her head, a small drop of sweat falling to the earth below.

            “I’m not sure. Admittedly, I’m expending more energy than usual doing this. We’re too close to this hive of humans for my liking, and the sooner we find his trail the sooner we leave them behind.”

             “They weren’t as terrible as I remembered them to be.”

             His words caught both himself and Nilr off guard. He had not meant to make himself seem so cozy with the humans a few hundred yards or so off. He didn’t think anything particularly remarkable of the humans, but parts of him admitted to himself that they weren’t actually all that terrible. Sure they had tried to attack them the moment they had stepped into the village, but they had also offered them shelter and protection after the misunderstandings between them had vanished. An exhausted yet hearty chuckle came from Nilr, and she shook her head, a smile gracing her lips.

            “Forget how I’m feeling, how are you feeling, Sol? Those two millennia catching up to you?”

            Unable to contain his irrational embarrassment, Sol snapped back at her.

            “My two millennia are matchsticks compared to your six.”

            “Six and a half, actually. I’m hurt, Sol. How long do you wee felidae breeds last again? Three, four millennia?”

            “Six. We typically live for six millennia.”

            “I wouldn’t call your two millennia matchsticks, Sol. You’re a third of the way until death.”

            “And you are halfway to yours!”

            Despite her fatigue a hearty laugh burst from Nilr’s throat. Flustered and hot from his own embarrassment, Sol could only offer a huff in response. His huff only seemed to make her laugh harder, and his face and ears and neck only continued to heat up in embarrassment. He disliked thinking about his own age. Every time a Tribemate would attempt to celebrate his birthday he would work his hardest to squirm out of the situation. It reminded him far too much of his own mortality, reminded him of the mortality of those he held close, and it reminded him that perhaps one day, his Tribemates may be left without him to help guide them. As much as he tried not to think about the potential future disasters that could befall his Tribe, it was still a nagging fear he restrained deep within a secluded part of his soul.

            “Come now Sol. You have nothing to fret over. That day is far from coming.”

             Shocked from his own thoughts and embarrassment, Sol realized that he was no longer smiling but frowning, tense and serious. He shook his head, banishing the thoughts to the deepest reaches of his mind once more.

            “You know I do not like to think of such things.”

            “I’ll do my best not to remind you until your next birthday.”

            A soft groan vibrated from his throat, and it was met with a quiet albeit tired chuckle. Quickly trying to recompose himself, Sol brought his attention back to what she had been doing. The residue had begun to grow significantly since he had last paid attention to it, and the pull of it had increased as well. Surprise bubbled in his gut, followed soon after by concern. Nilr really was pushing herself to find this trail faster, and while he knew he should stop her and slow her down, he was certain Nilr would only attempt to complete it far faster than she would be able to. A particularly loud snap made her flinch, and he would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t jumped at the sound as well. The snap was followed by a chorus of defeated gasps and victorious cries, all of which began to grate upon his nerves again. Muffled by the sounds of the others playing their games he could pick out Lurrdath’s voice, urging the others to play far more quietly. While Lurrdath tried to settle and silence the three playing their games, annoyance still boiled inside him as the three continued to ignore him.

            “Not much longer, Sol. His trail is drawing closer.”

            Sol’s attention once more returned to Nilr, first looking up to her face before letting his eyes drop to the earth below them. The pull of the vapours were fiercer, tendrils reaching out in both a southern and northern direction. For a moment he hesitated, trying to piece together the reason for two trails to show themselves. South would be a dangerous decision, and Sol was confident that Krl’desh knew of the dangers. He would never readily approach a place guarded by a dragon of eras long passed if he could avoid it. Though a portal was open and functioning in the basement of the rotting cistern, there had been a cave in at its entrance, and the journey to that particular portal was far more dangerous and time consuming to attempt as it is now. Though perhaps Krl’desh had been the one to cause the cave in. He wouldn’t put it past the other to attempt a speedy albeit dangerous return home if he was wounded. All he would have to do was dodge a dragon. A dragon who no doubt still recalled the events from eons ago. No, Krl’desh couldn’t be that foolish.

            Yet another loud snap made Sol jump, accompanied this time with the sound of a hearty, fleshy whack and a piercing whine. Sol glanced over his shoulder, both curious and frustrated. Eight out of the ten demons assembled were silent and staring, heads turned towards Lurrdath and Soltz. Soltz was nursing a bleeding cheek, eyes hard and free hand clenched in a fist. Lurrdath held his ground with a stare just as stony, a broken and jagged bone held in his hand. Sharp words spoken in a beastial tongue Sol could only just make out flew from the both of them, Soltz’s being far more loud and childish than Lurrdath’s. Unable to listen to them bicker as such so close to a human settlement, another hiss escaped his teeth. All eyes then turned to him, Soltz’s and Lurrdath’s included.

            “One would think that so close to a human settlement, you cubblings would remember to keep your yaps shut. Do not make me remind you all again.”

            Without sparing them another glance, Sol turned his eyes back to Nilr. Crimson eyes met amber, and for whatever reason it caught him off guard. The look of excitement and joy in her crimson eyes brought him back to reality. Before he could get a word out, Nilr held her hands up higher. A wispy cluster of residual magic danced on her scaled hands, two spider silk strands reaching out both south and north. He knew what the result would be before Nilr spoke it, but hearing it from her beak only brought an excited shiver to his spine.

            “He’s headed north, Sol. Krl’desh is returning home.”

            “Two years he spends missing in action, and all within a few piddly days he comes rushing home.”

            “We must find him, Sol.”

            Sol gave her a strong nod in response, an intense hope climbing from the depths of his being.

            “We must find him before the humans do.”

             At the mention of the humans, both he and Nilr hesitated. There was no doubt in his mind that they would be searching for him. They had seen what Krl’desh had done to their friends, and it was only a matter of time before they grew bold enough to try and hunt them all down for it. At the very least, all the humans knew at the moment was that Krl’desh was the killer, and they had been the meandering, lonesome trio in search of an old friend. If they still did not piece two and two together, then hopefully his tribe would have nothing to worry about when it came to the humans. Unfortunately, humans are far smarter than they make themselves out to be. Staring into Nilr’s eyes, he could tell she was thinking the same thing he was. They would have very little time to locate and escape with Krl’desh, should they come for their heads.

               In their silence Sol remembered the shaking in her limbs and the fatigue in her voice.

               “You’ve done a great deed today, Nilr. You should get some rest.”

               “You know there is no rest for the wicked, Sol. Not with our timeframe.”

               He did not want to argue with her, knowing she held truth in her words. However the efforts of her speedy tracking had taken a great toll on her. Still her arms shook and her voice wavered. Sweat soaked the downy feathers of her brows and head, and her breaths came fast and shallow. She was exhausted, and they both knew it. A look of regret and uncertainty flashed in her eyes, and Sol opened his mouth to speak.

               The shards of a broken wishbone clattered against a stone far too close to his right and once more his fur was bristling. The discomfort in Nilr’s eyes vanished, replaced by a look of anticipation and dread just as quickly as he was filled with an ever growing rage. She knew he was going to yell, and he wasn’t about to prove her wrong. Quick as a flash he was on his feet and turned towards the ten behind him. Several already had their hands over their ears, but Sol didn’t pay it much mind. All he knew was that he was angry beyond belief.

              “Would the lot of you just shut up?! I’ve no more patience to deal with your cubbish shenanigans, and in case you all have forgotten, we have seven days to find Krl’desh!”

               A look of shame spread across the faces of the seven, each of them looking away and avoiding eye contact with him. Lurrdath, Rotas, and Kir each had their eyes elsewhere as well, they too unwilling to make eye contact with him. Admittedly he was far less frustrated with the three of them, as it had been the seven who had been causing the most trouble. What had Krl’desh seen in these louts to have allowed them a permanent place amongst their Tribe? They had a strong enough force already with eighteen highly ranked demons, several lower Tribemates, and enough Casters to comfortably open a support shop. And yet he had insisted upon the seven having a permanent place amongst their ranks. Sol usually wasn’t one to question their Chief, but in the face of the seven’s antics and Krl’desh’s absence, Sol could only feel a churning, boiling rage. They should have left these lousy excuses for demons to fend for themselves in the inhabitable zones long ago.

               Intent on giving the seven a far harsher tongue lashing, Sol stopped short in his tracks at the sound of Old Shuck growling. In an instant his rage had turned cold and shrivelled within him, an icy claw of fear taking its place instead. Sol turned his gaze towards the three headed beast, no doubt his tribe following suit. The great dog had hunkered himself down, hackles raised and all three sets of teeth bared. Though he couldn’t see, Sol always trusted the dog’s senses. He followed the tips of their nose and looked out to the forest, dread and fear starting to pool in his gut.

               For a brief moment he felt a true relief. Ah, it was the two humans they had met when they had been searching for Krl’desh. They were kind and trustworthy humans, he thought, and they would have nothing to worry about with the two of them passing by them. Sol turned his gaze back to the demons he was scolding, prepared to continue where he had left off. He couldn’t let these seven get away with everything, or else they’ll truly be spoiled cubblings who never learn to fend for themselves. Sudden realization slapped him in the face and he whipped back around to face the humans. None of them had any form of disguise on them. He hadn’t thought to bring them, believing they would have been in and out of the forest tracking Krl’desh. Fur, feathers, claws, fangs, and eyes were all exposed. Even if they hadn’t brought Old Shuck with them, it would still be painfully obvious that they were not the humans they had originally made themselves out to be.

               Blue eyes met with amber, and Sol couldn’t help the glance to the nocked and drawn arrows aimed for them. Slowly raising his hands, Sol fought himself to speak to them, to say something, anything to them that would convince them to lower their bows. Nilr was doing the same, slowing rising to her feet and raising her hands, the residual magic forgotten and abandoned, allowed to disperse back into the environment. His eyes never left the two blue pairs that stared them down, colder and sharper than ice. Nilr was backing up, taking slow and easy steps to align herself with him, and the entire time he was painfully aware how the girl followed her with her arrows, ready to fire at any moment. For a long minute there was silence between the two parties, neither seeming to know what to do or say to the other, Old Shuck growling all the while. Refusing to take his eyes off of the two, Sol tilted his head towards the great beast and whistled, calling the beast back to him. Old Shuck had little time to obey his commands, and they had even less time to react.

               Without warning the two loosed their arrows, and the result was chaos. He didn’t look behind him, for he had no time to check, but he could hear the scuffle and scramble of his tribe diving to the earth and scampering out of the range of the arrows. He himself dove to the ground, landing hard enough to wind himself. With the number of arrows each of them had nocked on their bows, Sol wasn’t surprised to hear cries and shouts of pain. Nilr hit the ground hard beside him, a soft wheeze and groan coming from her throat. Without thinking Sol pushed himself up on all fours and began to run, giving the backwards command to the tribe to flee. Already the humans were nocking another set of arrows and taking aim. Still he ran, covering the short distance between them fairly quickly. Behind him he could hear the cries of his tribe, but he paid them no mind. He would not be watching any of them die today.

               The two loosed their arrows once more and several found their way over his head and into his tribe. A select few however came to cross his path, most of them sinking into the soft earth around him. One connected with his right arm and he hissed, the muscles in his arm already protesting and throbbing in agony. Even tripped up as he was he did not falter. Pushing off the ground with his back legs, Sol made a mighty leap into the two humans. He rammed them dead on with his left shoulder and fell heavily atop the two of them. Already he could tell that the tackle had hurt them just as much as it had hurt himself, and for that he was thankful. For reasons unknown within him, he did not wish to cause them any unnecessary harm. Perhaps there would be forgiveness one day, but that day could not be today.

               With both humans nearly squashed beneath him, Sol fought for time. Pressing the two into the ground by the collars of their tunics wouldn’t hold them back long, but he could hope with a few little scare tactics the humans would be dissuaded to attack until after the rest of his tribe had disappeared. He let a powerful roar burst from his mouth, showing off every tooth and fang to the writhing pair beneath him. The squirming was difficult to handle, and out from beneath a wounded arm came a fist. It met his jaw squarely, the hit hard enough to shock him from his roar. Pain pulsed where fist met flesh and fur as the boy punched him yet again in the jaw. He snapped his jaws shut, hissing under his breath when his tongue caught between his teeth. With his face beginning to hurt, Sol entangled his hands in the fronts of tunic and armor and pulled back. A moment after lifting the two up he threw them back into the ground, pressing as much of his weight into their chests as possible. A rush of satisfaction ran through him at the sound of them choking for breath. Their efforts redoubled as they fought to breathe and he attempted to redouble his own grip on them. It was not nearly enough, and much to his displeasure a bow cracked against the top of his skull. Vision going white for a mere moment, he picked the two up off the earth by their collars once more and slammed them back into the earth, again hearing their struggles to breathe. Satisfied with his distraction and anxious to return to his tribe, Sol pushed himself up and away from them, feeling the dull throbs of pain in his right arm and where panicked and angered fists had beat against him. Turning back to his tribe, a mild relief bubbled beneath the adrenaline. Nilr, despite her own injuries, was sending each injured Tribemate off, forcing them through space as a collection of paper thin residual magic. Unwilling to press weight onto his right arm, Sol raced back to them on his back legs, holding his arm against his chest painfully as he ran. By the time he had reached them Nilr was pushing the remaining members of the tribe close together. Behind him he could hear the two humans getting to their feet, the sound of metal singing against metal. They wouldn’t be downed for much longer.

               Grabbing his uninjured arm, Nilr nearly tossed him beside the others of the tribe and forced his hand into Trartom’s.

               “Go north, to the portal behind the castle’s keeps! I will be there soon enough!”

               Her words made little sense to him as she spoke them, but watching as a tome was pulled from her waist and shoved into Kir’s arms their meaning quickly dawned on him.

               “Nilr, I forbid this. You are too exhausted and injured to handle two like them on your own. I cannot allow-”

               “Not now, Sol. We can discuss this later.”

               A fear he had not felt in eons froze his mind and soul. Without thinking he grabbed her arm with his free hand, wincing as pain shot through him. She slapped his hand away and took a step back, her hands already shimmering with magic.

               “Nilr, I swear-”

               “You take care of them, Kir.”

               Panic rose inside of him as she looked him in the eye. Though her stance was calm, her eyes betrayed the fear she felt.

               “I’ll meet you there, you old cat.”

               Behind her the two humans raced forth, recovered from his crushing tackle and their blades in hand. Nilr flicked two quick handfuls of magic at them, and as he and the rest of his tribe went careening through space the image of his Advisor turning to block and fight off the falling blades was seared into his mind.

               It took very little time for them to reappear, staggering and dizzy amongst the ones who had been sent off before them. Even as he struggled to regain his balance, all he could see was Nilr. It wasn’t long before he was seeing red.   
  


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            A comfortable silence rest between the two of them as they walked. Birds sang, wind disturbed the leaves in the trees, the sun was high in the sky, and the occasional butterfly and moth fluttered past them. Both yesterday and now this morning they hadn’t found any trace of demons in the forests. Whether the demons were simply hiding or if they had fled the area entirely, Link couldn’t bring himself to care. He was relieved, in a sense, that he would not have to fight them today. After his dreams last night, Link wasn’t so sure he would be able to cut them down quite as effortlessly as he would have done before. At least he wouldn’t be able to for some time. He was sure that he would forget his dream eventually and in turn will be able to cut them down as if nothing had ever happened. As long as there weren’t any demons in sight, he would feel confident that the village would be safe again for another day.

            With his mind wandering, Link started to think of the demons in his dream once more. He had been thinking about them all morning, the dog headed brute, the one who had marched behind him, the ones farther front who had been speaking of their cubblings. For a dream, these demons had felt all too real. The sadness that had lingered in the dog headed brute’s eyes as he had looked back over his shoulder. It was a sadness that one felt after losing a friend, or perhaps a family member. There was a mourning in his eyes that Link could not bring himself to forget, one that had spoken so loudly despite having never been given a voice. Deep down he had known that all of the monsters and demons he had cut down were living, breathing, feeling creatures with some form of sentience, but never had it ever been so harshly put into reality as it had in that dream. And the demon behind him, the one who had stared through him with a gaze so empty and numbed that he almost couldn’t believe she was sentient and not an ancient contraption like Scrapper and the other automatons. He hadn’t seen anything like that before, not in a living creature. Emotionless, almost broken to the point of no return. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what she had been through to have had such an empty and numb gaze to her. Was that something demons were prone to doing to their soldiers? It seemed like a plausible explanation, at least until he recalled the other demons that had been around them. The two far ahead of him, he remembered, were speaking so fondly of cubblings. He wasn’t even sure what a cubbling was, but they had spoken of them so lovingly that he could have mistaken them for a couple living in the village. Had they not had horns and claws and fur and fangs, he would have easily mistaken them for a married couple. Perhaps a cubbling was a baby? He couldn’t be sure, but it had certainly seemed like it. Is that what the demons had called their babies? Did they dub their children cubblings? And if so, why? It was a strange name for a baby.

            For a moment, his thoughts hesitated. If they called babies cubblings, did they have funky names for everything else? He hadn’t thought of demons having babies, and much less he thought of the possible culture surrounding demons. If they were an organized race, then surely they would have some form of culture, wouldn’t they? At first he would have thought that they had a culture revolving around war. From what he already knew of demons, it wouldn’t have been a bad assumption. But the gentleness and longing and the pure, raw emotions he had seen in his dream last night did not come across quite like a war-loving, battle-hardened people. What did they do in the Demon Realm? Did they have birthdays and festivals just as they did? Did they celebrate holidays? Did they have schools and daycares and bazaars? Some of the questions that burst forth in his mind seemed foolish. They must have some form of education system for their offspring. How else would they all be able to speak the same language and fight the same wars? Surely they would have festivals as well, or at the very least birthdays. Every education system had to have had a roster of the students’ information, and surely that would include birthdays, right?

             Again he hesitated. It was only a dream last night, wasn’t it? This had all been a figment of his imagination, right? He had never seen a demon before two years ago, and even then his knowledge on demons was extremely limited. No matter how many times he had fallen asleep in class or stared off into space out of the window, there was never truly anything about demons he could have encountered. All Skyloft had were myths and legends, and all of which were filled with nothing but war and lust and violence. There had been nothing truly factual about demons in those legends and myths, and even then they were just legends and myths, ones that had little grounds for truth until two years ago. Perhaps the war aspect of his dream was correct about what he knew of demons, but everything else seemed too surreal to be true facts. It was almost historical, his dream, as if this was something from the past he was forced to experience. Then again, however, the interactions between the goddess and Ghirahim… That was something that couldn’t be true. An interaction like that couldn’t have been taken literally. It must have some sort of metaphorical meaning seated deep within it. Every dream was supposed to have a meaning, right? Perhaps he could visit the local library sometime and see if he couldn’t decipher any meanings from his progressively stranger and stranger dreams. They probably wouldn’t hold much ground to help him understand his dreams, but it couldn’t hurt to try, could it?

             The sound of birdsong broke through his thoughts. Or rather, the lack of birdsong did. He hadn’t noticed that the birds had stopped singing in this particular stretch of woods, and it certainly didn’t do any good for his mood. How long had they walked without the cheerful calls of the birds? Nervousness rising inside him, Link cast his eyes through the woods around them. The butterflies and moths had taken their leave, just as the birds had. The sun still shone through the leaves, and the leaves still rustled in the breeze, but the lack of the normal birdsong made his gut heave. What happened? Why were there no calls and cries of the birds in the trees? He got his answer soon enough when Zelda turned to him and whispered to him.

             “Link, do you smell that?”

             He hadn’t even noticed the smell until she had pointed it out. He took a deep breath and nearly gagged at the taste of it. Sharp and choking, with a bizarre mix of sweetness and rot that confused the nose and stomach. How had he not noticed such a foul odour before now? He couldn’t have been thinking that deeply, could he? Casting his eyes to Zelda, the question he had on his tongue immediately died. She already had her bow drawn and three arrows in hand, her own eyes cast towards the direction the stench seemed to come from. He decided perhaps any questions on how long they had let the smell go unnoticed could wait. Instead he drew his own bow and took three arrows of his own in hand.

            With Zelda in lead, Link let his thoughts branch off once more, this time in a far more controlled and aware state of mind. This smell was quite unlike most he had once encountered on his journey, though there was an air of familiarity to it. It was different to the times in which he had encountered it in the past, but it was still familiar enough to bring a real rush of fear into his stomach. He could have sworn he had encountered it before in the depths of Death Mountain in the Eldin Province, coming from ignited yellow crystals that had grown too hot. It would be bizarre to find those crystals in the Faron Woods, however. He had only seen them in the Eldin Province, and even when he had seen the few that had not been ignited, they did not reek this terribly. Even if there had been ignited crystals in the forests, there was no real explanation for why they would be there, nor would there be any real reason for human, demon, or monster alike for retrieving them from such a distance.

            The stench reminded him of encounters with the great, beastial body of the Demon King’s sealed form. The towering giant had smelt so strongly of this odour that Link wished he could banish from his memories. Even with his form both sealed and unsealed, however, it hadn’t been so awful. This was something far different than from the times he’s smelt it before, and if his experience meant anything, whatever was producing the smell could not have been good.

            Without warning Zelda ducked down behind a particularly large patch of bushes. Link scrambled to follow her, crouching down and slinking as quietly as he could up beside her. She had all three arrows nocked now, and through the scraggly spaces between leaves she stared. Curiosity and anticipation swamped him as he nocked his own arrows nowhere near as neatly as she had and peered through another breech in the leaves. He couldn’t have been more right about the smell coming from something dangerous.

            The clearing beyond the bushes was teeming with strangers, ones that Link immediately pegged as demons. There were twelve of them in total gathered there, all clustered in separate social groups. Perhaps if they hadn’t had fur, claws, extra limbs and fangs, Link would have felt foolish for hiding. The closest cluster was a group of three. Each of them were staggeringly tall, and each wore a deep greyish-maroon cloak. The shortest of the three had short hair draping over one side of his face, the colour resembling that of the mosses growing on dead trees. Their cloak, though maroonish in base colour was pleated and lined with golds and red, the collar of the cloak popped and pressed. Grey leggings tight and gloves a glimmering white, they held what appeared to be the thigh bone of a small animal in their hands. The tallest of the three wore a cloak far longer than the first, this one painted in interlocking patterns of bright orange. The collar of their cloak was far taller and stiffer, framing fiery red and gold hair and black eyes. The third of the group was stockier, and though his cloak was hooded and hid most of his features, soot black hair could be seen hiding his darker skin and red eye. They too held the bones of a small animal, and every so often the three of them would hoot over the cracking of a particular bone.

            A little farther beyond them were two others, both of them strikingly similar to the first three. They, unlike the first three, wore the same clothes, were the same height, and had the same hair. The only difference was the length of the ashen strands, one having their hair to their shoulders and the other only a little past their chin. They must have twins, those two. The two that stood even further were just as similar. One had dark curled hair, and the other had hair as green as moss, slick and straight over his head and a small part of his face. The first of the two held no familiarity, but the voice of the second brought upon an uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

            “Those seven… They all look the same…”

            Just barely audible over the cackling and droning of the gathered people, Link took another, closer look at the seven he had just inspected. Sure enough, they each seemed to have the same facial structures. The same eye shape, the same ear shape, and, for the most part, the same hairstyle. It hit him fast and hard how their hair reminded him all too sharply of a particular being they were already hunting down, and the uncomfortable feeling in his chest soon become harsh. Who were these people, and why did they bear such a striking resemblance to the being that had caused him so much trouble and pain through his journey? Did they idol the Demon Lord? Were they his servants, forced to look such a way by their Lord’s own vain request? Link tried not to linger on it, instead turning his eyes to another group of three he hadn’t looked at yet.

            They by far were some of the strangest he had seen. The first was thin and lanky, her arms stretching down to her shins and her jaw elongated into a point that was far too surreal to be reality. Adorned in checkers and a skirt of royal blue fabric, she spoke far more softly than her seven nearby companions. One of the two she spoke to had horns jutting form his head, curving backwards and out with several piercings dangling from each. With only his head and hands seemingly bare, the rest of his body was covered in a long, thick, black and grey coat of fur. A tail hung behind him, held at a level that seemed to convey neutrality. The third was the strangest of them. Taller than the other two, his most definable features were his ears and his armor. For someone who had ears of great length, relatively speaking, this man had ears nearly five times as long as his own, stretching far out from his head. His armor seemed to match his ears, with two large shoulder pads holding onto a number of long and thick drapes of cloth, all of which seemed to have a mind of their own as they swayed back and forth in lazy patterns. 

            All ten of the demons he had looked at were concerning, to say the least. They were all too close to the village for his liking, and all of them far too loud. Silently he wondered how the village had not heard these demons lurking so close to the village. Were the knights really this poorly trained to miss the racket these demons were causing? Or were they farther out from their village than previously anticipated? Though the three oddities of the group seemed to be respectfully quiet, the other seven were cackling and speaking far too loudly for anyone within a fifty foot radius to miss. Perhaps they were too cocky for their own good. It was too far out from the village to tell if a raid mission would be approaching by sight and sound alone, and while the thought of these demons being discovered by a raid brought bitter satisfaction to his stomach, anxiety wrought its way into him. These were demons that even he himself had not encountered before. If a raid of knights were to approach, there was no doubt in his mind that they would not last a few piddly minutes against these creatures. Muscles filled with anticipation, Link barely had the time to leap out from the bushes and into battle.

            A loud and forced snarl in a strange tongue froze him where he sat. With chills racing through his body, Link cast his eyes towards the two demons he had failed to inspect before. Piercing amber eyes glared out at the ten demons, and for a moment he could have sworn those eyes penetrated the bush they hid behind as they swept past. He could recognize his voice anywhere, as he hadn’t heard a voice quite like his before. Despite not having his mask on, Link couldn’t help but think of how similar his real face was to that of the beasts his mask was modelled after. A snout covered in thick tawny and dun fur, black streaks of paint- or perhaps mutated colouration- spreading outwards and around the eyes and chin, and a mane so large that he was shocked to see him move his head with ease. Two elongated ears poked through the mane, laying back against his skull in what he could only assume was anger and frustration. In all of his life, he could not have imagined that any normal creature could look like this. Link paid no mind to the armor he wore, and instead stared at the fur that seemed to cover him from ear to tail. How had he hidden such a ghastly appearance beneath the earlier disguise? Was he born with this visage? Despite the overwhelming evidence that Sol was a demon, he couldn’t help but think of the beast as more than just a beast. He had spoken to him, had shown him some kind of human emotion. For a moment his mind wandered off to his dream of the demons he had marched with. They too had been emotional and uncomfortably human. To see such a thing happening now in real life was staggering.

            As Sol turned his attention back to the demon beside him, Link turned his attention to her as well. Black feathers covered her from head to knee, and dark scales ran from her fingers and toes all the way up to her elbows and below her knees. Patterns of bright and swirling blues lined her wings, arms, legs, and torso, with two streaks lining and falling from the eyes. Her eyes were just as crimson as the points on her body, giving the blue patterns a stark contrast against her black feathers and scales. Vaguely Link identified her as Nilr, the more or less silent demon who had worn a crow mask with mesh eyes. It was no wonder she had the eye holes filled in with mesh. Even from this distance he could see the raw, joyous emotion glittering in her eyes. He didn’t need to be close, or to really understand their language to know that whatever magic she held in her hands brought her an intense and unwavering joy.

            Startled as Zelda nudged his shoulder, he turned his attention away from the two softly spoken demons and gave it to her. She just barely held back a wince as the seven other demons began to let their voices spike once more, and he winced with her. At least their chattering would hide any sounds of them discussing a plan. She shuffled closer, close enough to whisper to him and still be heard over the racket of the demons.

            “They’re way too close to the village. Someone’s going to hear them.”

            “There are too many of them to take them all on at once. It’s twelve against two.”

            “We need to do something, though. We can’t let them stay here like this. What if someone gets hurt?”

            Link nodded, anticipation bubbling angrily in his stomach. They couldn’t let anyone else find them here, nor could they risk anyone else getting involved in this. This was a problem that they had to deal with. Momentarily he stopped. When had this gone from his own personal problem to a problem he had to share with Zelda? He hadn’t wanted to get her involved in it either, and yet here they were, ducked behind a bush together and trying to come up with ways to take out twelve demons all at once.

            “Take aim at them.”

            “What?”

             Link shook himself from his thoughts as Zelda nocked all three arrows onto her bow, skillfully holding onto the ends of each in the spaces between her fingers. She jerked her head towards the bow and arrows he held in his own hand.

            “Nock them. We have to do something.”

            “But there’s twelve of them.”

            “So? There have been worse odds, right?”

            Though anxious about engaging all twelve demons at once, Link knew that they didn’t have many options in dealing with these beasts. No matter how human they made themselves out to be, they were still the opponent and had to be dealt with. For the good of the village. Following suit, he too nocked his arrows and cast his gaze once more to the demons before them. All of them were still occupied, and each becoming louder and louder. Slowly he began to shift, doing his best to keep out of their line of sight as he shuffled himself closer and closer to a position he could better aim from. Zelda was close behind him, taking care to be just as stealthy as he was trying to be. None of the gathered demons seemed to notice them as they moved ever so slowly into a more sparsely covered area, where brambles and bushes couldn’t threaten to give away what little surprise they might have held against the twelve. As slowly and as carefully as he could he raised his bow, taking aim at the cluster of demons.

            The clattering of a bone landing directly beside Sol made him freeze up, his balance wavering as his momentum was stopped too soon. The moment of which Sol stood up and began a furious roar at the gathered demons was the moment Link let himself shift. With his heart pounding, he moved his foot over for a better, more grounded stance to fire from. His heart leapt into his throat as a twig snapped beneath his boot. When none of the twelve demons seemed to notice the sound, Link allowed himself the quick minute to berate himself. That was stupid. He should have kept a closer eye on his surroundings before he steadied himself. His heart was immediately back in his throat as a loud, long, rattling growl broke through Sol’s rage.

            He took a sharp breath in through his nose, and heard Zelda do the same as a new beast made its presence known. Farther beyond the demons, standing off on its own and previously in silence was a huge monster, one he could truly only describe as a raggedy Wolfos with the three heads of a Staldra. Covered in black and grey fur, the three headed beast had hunched down, pulling back all three sets of thin lips to expose teeth like ivory blades. Red, white, and black patterned blindfolds hid most of the creature’s faces and eyes, but with ears laid back and fangs bared, Link had no doubt that this new beast would be an incredibly difficult fight. Within seconds he could feel all eyes of the demons landing on them, and though incapable of tearing his eyes from the hulking beast, he could make out several demons with their hands raised submissively in the air. Save for the snarling and growling from the beast before them, silence blanketed the area. Neither they nor the demons spoke to each other, a stalemate freezing the vocal chords of all. Every muscle in his body was tensed, ready to fire his arrows out at the demons and monster. The few moments of silence between the parties felt like years, but it all came crashing down far more quickly than he would have liked.

            Sol had made a soft whistling sound in the beast’s direction, and he was having none of it. Immediately he turned and loosed his arrows upon the demons, Zelda doing the same a split second afterwards. Demons scrambled around the clearing, and without thinking he was nocking another three arrows to fire. The great beast quickly disappeared into smoke as the shouts of demons began, and Link turned his full attention towards the group. Sol was on all fours- a sight Link had mistakenly thought he’d never see- and was sprinting towards them. Zelda fired another set of arrows into the crowd of demons, these ones whizzing past in a rush of magic and light. Link fired his own three, concentrating on stopping Sol before he reached them. One arrow connected with his arm four feet away from them, and Sol tripped. Any minute relief he felt seeing Sol falter immediately died as the demon leapt.

              His chest was met with a shoulder and thick armor, and soon after his back met the earth. With the wind knocked from him and Zelda writhing on the earth beside him, Link’s heart nearly fled from his throat and out of his mouth. Pinning them both down, Sol pulled back and opened his jaws. An earth shattering roar exploded from him, breath reeking of brimstone and rotting flesh. Panic flooded every sense, and squirming an arm free, Link’s fist connected with his jaw. Sol’s jaw was solid and gave a satisfying thwack as he pounded against his jaw again. Sol snapped his jaws shut, blood dripping off of the fangs that had accidentally bitten down into his tongue. Sol’s weight shifted, and the heavy hands on their chests dug themselves into fabric and armor. The earth left their backs as Sol lifted their torsos up, and all too quickly it came back down, the back of his head smashing against the earth as Zelda wheezed and choked on lost breath. Ears ringing and struggling for breath, Link continued to hit and punch at Sol, who all the while wrestled to keep them both pinned. Zelda, still fighting for her breath, managed to squirm both of her arms free from beneath him and brought her bow down on Sol’s head with a hearty crack. Despite having a very large mane, the bow seemed to disorient him. Sol lifted their torsos up by their collars once more and slammed them yet again into the ground. This time he stood and fled, retreating on two legs instead of four. Link wasted no time in getting to his feet, and Zelda was standing moments after him. Tossing his bow to the ground, Link made a mad charge after Sol. He had already covered the distance from them to the other demons. Only five of the original twelve remained. Nilr was jostling the four others around, forcing hands together and speaking in a rush yet calm tone. Sol seemed to object to her as a book was shoved into one of the demon’s arms. Ears filling with the sound of rushing blood, Link pushed himself faster and faster, clearing the space between them faster than he thought he could.

            Before he could engage any of the demons, the four Nilr had pushed together disappeared in a cloud of magic. That wouldn’t stop him from trying to take out at least one of the demons. All attention was turned to Nilr, who in turn pivoted to face him. Bringing his blade up, Link swung downwards in a powerful arc, looking to cleave her in half. Two scaled arms came up in an x-formation to block his blade. To his surprise a second blade had fallen in the same area as his had. He had been so rushed to reach the group of demons that he hadn’t really noticed Zelda drawing her own blade. Deciding that was a thought for another day he tore his blade away from Nilr, acutely noting his blade had only been able to crack a few ends of the outer scales. With one blade pulled away, Nilr seemed to focus on the blade still in contact with her, breaking the x-formation to swing her arm and wrap it around Zelda’s blade. Within a blink of an eye he was thrusting the tip of his blade forwards, aiming to pierce the softer feathers of her torso. Nilr’s free arm shot out to sweep the blade away, scales clanging loudly against the steel of his blade. Still she continued to try and disarm Zelda, who very adamantly switched grips to keep ahold of her blade. With his strike deflected, Link moved forwards in an attempt to incapacitate her another way. He took a few steps closer, raising his blade up above his head as if he were to try a downward slice again. In a heartbeat Nilr used her free arm once more to block, grabbing his arm just above the elbow and squeezing. His sword dropped from his hand as she pinched ligaments and nerves, but with both of her hands busy she had no other way to block his next strike. Clenching his right hand into a tight fist, he threw a punch directly for her chest. Given no time to react from their close quarters, his fist met her square in the collar bone. She choked, grip in both hands slackening in the slightest. Zelda seemed to notice her chance and yanked her sword arm backwards. Her blade slid from Nilr’s grip, pulling her forwards in the slightest, and Zelda raise a leg to deliver a swift kick to the gut. Once again unable to dodge or block the blow, Nilr choked on her breath as she was kicked.

            With her grip sufficiently loosened, Link jerked his arm back and away from Nilr. Bright red talons tore at the edges of his sleeve, but he paid no mind to it. It could be easily fixed once this was over and done with. Zelda, her blade still in hand, charged at the breathless demon, and Link scooped up his sword off the ground to follow suit. Nilr seemed to have enough for one day, backing up as quickly as her awkwardly built legs would allow her. Had she not spread her wings and started to flap, he had no doubt they would have caught up to her. Wings beating hard, Nilr began to ascend, escaping the reach of their blades. Frantic to take her down, Link scrambled in the other direction towards the bow he had discarded in his chase after Sol. He didn’t get too far as he heard a particularly raven-esque squawk of agony. Looking over his shoulder he spotted Zelda drawing another arrow, magic dancing on the three pronged tip. A residual trail lit the way from her bow up to Nilr, where another arrow had been lodged between the feathers of her wing and shoulder. Her flapping had become more and more frantic, no doubt the new wound causing her great pain. Feathers from her arms stood on end, the blue swirling patterns slowly glowing brighter.

            Without warning the feathers that stood on end seemed to rocket off of her arms, and each of the feathers shot down towards them, a strange, near slimy looking black magic coating the vane and quill of the feathers. As the first few came down, the edges of the feathers seemed to slice their way deep into the earth. Heart nearly stopping in his chest, Link scrambled his way back towards Zelda as the rest of the feathers began to rain down upon them. He dove for her, pulling his shield from the clasps on his back and lifting it to cover not only his head but hers. She too had seen what the feathers were capable of, and she had pulled her own shield off of her back to cover them as well. Feathers collided with their shields with a disconcerting clatter before bouncing off and away like stones. Feathers that made it past their shields nicked them, slicing cleanly through fabric and delivering a shallow cut where skin came too close to clothes. He tried tucking himself farther underneath their small umbrella of shields, and from the way Zelda was shuffling, he had no doubt she was doing the same.

            Almost as quickly as the rain of feathers began it ended, the last of the feathers bouncing off their shields and skittering across the ground before coming to a stop. Too anxious to hold still in case a second volley come their way, Link edged their shields apart just enough to peer through the crack between them. Nilr was watching them from eye in the sky, crimson eyes just barely visible. He watched her for a moment, frozen in his place and uncertain of what their next actions should be. Nilr took her chance and fled, wings flapping frantically as she took to the north. Relief and disappointment washed over him, and he lowered his shield. Zelda did the same, strapping the now battered metal and wood to her back. They’d failed to take out the demons who had been lingering so close to the village, but at the very least they would not be battling them for the time being. That could wait for now. Turning his gaze to Zelda, he realized she had been staring at him. Words passed on a silent glance, and they nodded to one another. It is time to hunt down some demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCK MAN I DIDN'T THINK I WOULD MAKE IT HERE HONESTLY. I have been so burnt out from writing about Ghirahim and his fucko friends that I just could not bring myself to write. I got a little depressed there in the middle of it all and I couldn't think of anything but eating and sleeping. BUT!!! That's not the only reason why I'm so tardy!!!  
> Recently I got my ass accepted into an art program, one of which I didn't think I would actually get into at all, and one of which that honestly changed my perspective about my possible future. Honestly, I thought after this victory lap in high school I would just wind up on the streets, and quickly after that I thought I would be dead. But a college program actually accepted me, which is WILD and has, to some extent, turned my perception of my future on its head.  
> Also like the lazy fuck I am, I've been sort of working on character concepts and designs for Flicker of a Shadow, my fancomic that I've put six plus years of planning into, so that is super exciting! The third fic in this trilogy or whatever it is I am doing is also coming along, kind of. I have a name for it now, instead of perpetually calling it the "Untitled Sol Fic". It'll be called Tyallalo, and ((hopefully)) after writing the second fic in this series y'all will learn what Tyallalo means.  
> Another exciting and not super artsy thing that's been holding me back is school. Got a pretty heavy semester that was originally planned for a back up college course that I believed that I ALSO would not get into. Surprise surprise though, that course accepted me right away, and soon after art school hit me the fuck up so I went with plan a. But the sciences needed for that plan b course are killing me and I'm desperately trying to catch up so I don't absolutely bomb everything lol.   
> Be it good or bad, these are the reasons I've been away for so long, and now that I'm posting this chapter I feel like a weight has been lifted off of me. Hopefully this relief of a weight will allow me to write up the next chapter like it ain't shit, and hopefully I can have that one up really soon too.
> 
> And I just want to say it again, cause it means so incredibly much to me: thank you. Thank you all so so so much for lingering and checking to see if I've updated or rereading the entire thing and all that. You've all got no idea how much it means to me that you all are reading it and honestly, this is way more than what I thought I would get. Thank you all so much for reading, and I'll try my damnedest to bring the next chapter up within a more appropriate time frame. <3


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link and Zelda aren't having a super great time on their journey, and admittedly, neither is Ghirahim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said I wanted to be more punctual with the next chapter update? What a fucking joke I am LOL. A month and a half later and I finally have this chapter ready to shit out. I hope y'all enjoy it nonetheless, and I'm sorry again about the ridiculous waits between chapters.

            The earth dragged past underneath them, trees shifting and rivers appearing and disappearing below them. It was fresher higher up in the air, she thought. There was little smell of the woods they flew over, and despite the trees that covered the land in what little horizon she could see stretching before them, the open sky and wisps of clouds held her attention. There weren’t any trees, any plants or animals to change the smell of the wind and sky. The earth floor was musty, fruity and almost a little bitter. In the sky all she could smell was the wind, fresh and untouched by the earth. She preferred the sky, especially on days like this. It was a calm and clear day, the rains that had soaked the earth the night before were nowhere to be found, and a gentle wind blew past from behind, lifting her Loftwing higher into the sky.

            Crimson- Link’s Loftwing- flapped lazily beside her, soaring over the earth a few feet away. Taking her eyes off of the skies before her, she cast her gaze to Crimson’s rider. He sat perched atop his bird, body stiff and a grim expression covering his features. The long windsock hat and earthly green tunic he wore snapped and flailed in the wind as he flew, much like her own apparel. Even with the gentle breeze from behind their forwards movement was enough to disturb their clothes to a great extent. The snapping clothes didn’t bother her. In fact, it was a rather familiar sensation, and one she coveted. It was a sensation she had felt since the day her Loftwing had descended from the sky and took her on her first flight across the skies. It brought her a sort of nostalgic comfort that couldn’t quite be replicated, even by the violent winds that pushed and pulled at the peaks of cliffs and mountains. What brought her discomfort in this moment was the look on Link’s face.

            Any time she looked over at him in the previous years he had always had a dreamy look on his face, one that told the world he had been just as peacefully lost in the clouds as he had been in his own thoughts. He was never so tense, never so grim. For as long as she could remember he had been a light and adventurous spirit, one that had no problems missing a knightly duty or two in favour of losing himself further in the skies and the feeling of flight. As of two years ago that facet of her friend had vanished. Sure he still smiled and sure he still enjoyed the adventures of flight, but something had changed. She would never know what point in particular during his journey that he had seemingly lost his carefree self, but she had the insurmountable feeling that the parts of him that she had loved so much had died when he had run off to face the Demon King himself. Once more she remembered the day he had freed her from her amber prison. The smile that he had shared with her, the way he spoke so breathlessly about the beauty of the surface, the way that, even injured as he was, he would gesture madly and hold her hand and bounce with every step. She dearly missed that side of her friend, the one that was not scared to have fun.

            Zelda turned her eyes away from him, instead returning her gaze to the skies in front of her. Perhaps, if they flew high enough and fast enough, she could forget all that had happened to both her and her greatest friend. Maybe they could relive their carefree days, racing through the skies and training to be knights? It was unlikely, but trying her hardest, she could pretend that neither of them had risked and nearly lost their lives to a quest that never should have been theirs. She could pretend that the quest they made now wasn’t real, that they were instead exploring, travelling the lands together to see what they had missed during their mad scramble to save the surface.

            The uneasy clicking of their Loftwings stole the precious few moments of her imagination and nostalgia from her. Rubbing the bunched up neck of her Loftwing, Zelda cast her eyes towards the place both Crimson and her own were staring. The trees had thinned out and gave way to plains. Rolling hills with rivers and streams hidden in some of the valleys. Anticipation boiled inside her as she caught sight of the mess below them. She couldn’t see all too well from her perch in the sky atop her Loftwing, but she didn’t need to be closer to see that there had been a massacre beneath them. Zelda cast a quick glance up to Link, and his eyes met hers, solemn and worried and uncomfortable. She too felt the emotions he felt as they both began to circle their Loftwings down towards the earth. All through their descent she kept her eyes moving, searching the grasses of the plains and the edges of the nearby forest. Whatever had done its killing here may not be too far away. Nothing in the surrounding area had moved as they continued to circle, and Zelda couldn’t decide if that had brought her comfort or made her feel even more on edge.

            The initial landing of her Loftwing was just as bumpy as ever, her stomach somersaulting as he slowly lost his momentum. Link and his Loftwing landed close beside her, and almost in unison both he and she slid off the backs of their birds. Without their riders and wary of the spilt blood before them, Zelda couldn’t blame them for taking back to the sky. If she could fly, she would not have hesitated to do the same. Momentary envy of the birds overtook her for only a heartbeat before she began to approach the mess.

            Scattered before her was a collection of downed wolves and what she could only assume was once a Faron Elk. The elk looked as if it had been torn apart by a predator larger than the wolves, perhaps by a pack of Wolfos or a stray Lizalfos or two. Entrails were scattered about, some of them torn or missing entirely, blood soaked the short hair on its hide, and flesh was torn and missing from all over the head, neck, and body. Had there been more meat missing, she would have been more inclined to believe that it was merely a pack of Wolfos who had torn through the area and had eliminated the competition of the wolves. Instead a thick feeling of dread filled her gut. Had there been a pack of Wolfos nearby, there should have been bodies of both beasts on the ground, and there wouldn’t be much more than a small collection of bones left over from the feast. The wounds the elk had sustained and the lack of any opponent’s body told her all she needed to know. They were certainly on the right track to finding Ghirahim.

            WIth a question thick on her tongue, Zelda looked up and sought out Link. The question died there in her mouth as she watched Link wander through the bodies of the wolves. Some of them he was brushing the fur around, others he was rolling over and examining any limb and joint that wasn’t already stiff from death. Hesitantly she walked over to him, standing beside him as he combed through the fur of one wolf. His hands worked diligently, pulling the fur in different directions and running the bare pads of his fingers across the skin. A new question rose in her mind, but it was quickly answered when his fingers stopped on the back of the wolf’s head. Beneath his fingers she could see blood, congealed and sticky. There was a wound that the blood had originally spilled from, and by the looks of Link’s face she had no doubt he knew what was the cause of its death.

            Worried about him, she placed a hand on his shoulder. Her touch seemed to jar him, shunting him from whatever thoughts were plaguing him. Hesitant blue eyes looked up to meet hers, and she did not like the thoughts and fears she found in the depths of his eyes. There was no question that Ghirahim had caused this mess, and whether it had been him to tear apart the elk or if it was the wolves was going to stay a mystery. At the very least the bodies were a grim yet good sign of their progress, but the fear in her friend’s eyes only worried her. As if she wasn’t concerned enough with his health, she feared what encountering the Demon King’s blade might bring them. He had frozen in his place the night they had found him tearing apart their fellows, almost as if he had seen a ghost. From his earlier admittance she wouldn’t be surprised if it felt as such, but if he had frozen then, how would he react the next time? Something about the fear in his eyes and his previous action told her that he would not handle the next encounter all that well.

            Before she could say anything to comfort or encourage him Link was on his feet, brushing the dirt from his knees and readjusting his tunic. He didn’t make eye contact with her as he turned his attention to the north. His avoidance of her gaze only made the fear and dread in her gut coil tighter.

            “Come on. We need to keep moving.”

            Zelda couldn’t bring herself to give a vocal response, and she didn’t bother giving a gesture of acknowledgement, as he would not see it from his position. He didn’t seem to care if she agreed or if she had something to say, instead giving a loud and sharp whistle to his bird. The sound seemed to echo across the plains, as did the returning cry of his Loftwing. Down came his bird, circling over them intently as she too whistled for her bird. She found that the landing of their Loftwings wasn’t fast enough. She was anxious to return to the skies and leave this massacre behind. It was clear both Link and their Loftwings felt the same. Climbing up onto his shoulders, both she and Link took to the sky once more, their birds flapping hard and fast until they leveled out in the sky. She refused to look back at the bodies, every part of her feeling tense and tight with anxiety. At least in the sky they were safe from the stench of death, though she knew it wouldn’t last for long.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

            The calls of birdsong pushed past the fog in his head, drawing him farther and farther away from his slumber. Slowly his body began to respond, a hot breeze blowing over his exposed skin and the dry bark scratching against his skin and clothes. Heat seemed to envelope him, a feeling he wasn’t too fond of. Cracking his eyes open, morning’s first harsh light flooded his sight. He gave an inaudible hiss and squeezed his eyes shut once more, raising a hand to rub at his eyelids tiredly. How long had he slept exactly? Pushing himself up with his elbows, he took the time to stretch out his spine and carefully blink his eyes back open. The harshness of the light wasn’t as terrible as it had first been, and with time his eyes became used to it. Rubbing his eyes with a finger and thumb once again he took a clearer look at the area surrounding him.

            Dry grasses poked up through the even drier dirt, littering the earth around him sparsely in brownish green clumps. Farther to his right he could see the plains he had left behind him, the forest he had fled looking like no more than a fuzzy patch of green poking up from behind and around the tops of the hills. To his left lay a less than fruitful path, where grass became sparser and sparser, and where boulders replaced the sweeping hills. Farther along he could see the glow of lava more clearly, and the rise of the Eldin Volcano was far larger than when he had started his journey through the fields. Beneath him lay a fallen log from a long since deceased tree. Brittle and crumbling beneath him, he had decided the night before that he had preferred a few small insects and dead bark over the dusty dirt the log lay in. It had certainly done nothing good for his back if the stiffness in his spine said anything. At least he was still clean. Or at least cleaner than he would have been had he slept in the dirt like some filthy animal.

            Casting his gaze back to the distant forests once again, he couldn’t help the soft sigh that squeaked past his lips. He had run a long way last night after his meal. He was surprised he didn’t feel more tired or sore from such a distance. Even for one such as he it was a great and vast distance, especially with his stamina being the way it was. He could recall the few times he had stopped to rest along the way, crouching by rivers to drink and resting beneath the shade of the occasional tree that came across his path. Whatever had made him stop here at this particular fallen tree was beyond him, he had been too tired the night before to pay much attention to it. At least it had provided him a subpar resting place to regain his strength and stamina for the next day’s journey, however little he must have slept.

            Swinging his legs over the girth of the tree to face Eldin, a small hiss left his throat. His leg muscles tightened and his back throbbed in protest. He retracts his previous surprise. He was far more sore than he had first imagined himself to be, and sleeping on a log probably didn’t do him any favours. Taking his sweet time, he stretched and pulled out each muscle, going through his limbs and torso one after another. It was painful at first, his muscles and tendons protesting as they were pulled out of their tightened, slumbering state, but after some time the pain subsided into a pleasant, aching warmth. He snorted to himself. Yes, that was the last thing he needed upon entering a terribly hot climate. No matter. There is nothing he can do to chill his body without quickly exhausting himself all over again, and he would much rather wait to use his magic to keep him cool until he was in the depths of the sweltering lands ahead of him.

            Pushing himself onto his feet, Ghirahim stretched out his back a final time before wandering his way towards the volcano. Surely the distance he had put between himself and the forests would be great enough to delay whatever encounter with humans he may have in the future. Surely they hadn’t expanded this far outwards, right? They were only humans after all, and humans are very susceptible to the extremes. Admittedly when it came to heat Ghirahim was no better than them, and even at such a distance he was already feeling the heat of the volcanoes. But he had a greater drive, a more wily tenacity than any of these humans possessed. He would make it through the volcanoes before those brats even begun to figure out where he was headed. With that thought in mind his mindless wandering turned into a determined march north. North, towards the edges of these lands. Towards home. He was so close he could taste it, but it was still so tantalizingly out of reach. He would just have to keep marching through this. He would make it home eventually, so long as he never gave up.

            It didn’t take him long into his trek into the heated lands to encounter his first problem. All over the hillside he was ascending were green and red chuchus alike, they themselves wandering aimlessly. With an incredibly below average intelligence they were easy to avoid, though some who had been too big to avoid were all too willinging to lunge at him, the fronts of their bodies opened up like a gaping, drooling maw. They weren’t difficult to dispatch, per se. It was much more difficult, however, to continue on his merry way when such pointless, bumbling monsters impeded his path every sixty seconds or so. A quick jolt of icy magic or a barrier took the beasts out with ease, but the more he had to encounter, the more he was using magic he would much rather be saving. Swinging a sword around was always an option, but Ghirahim thought it would be better to simply freeze them in their tracks rather than waste even greater reserves of energy trying to hack and slash his way through them. Besides, one does not simply spill a bit of jam and then use the knife to clean it up. The same could be said about these chuchus. It was far more efficient to bring down a barrier and shuffle the chuchus away than it was to hack and slash at them in hopes of dispatching them.

            Gradually the populations of green chuchus faded, replaced entirely by red chuchus, and not soon enough after that did their populations begin to thin out. Relief built up in his gut as he neared the crest of the hill, and casting his eyes behind him he picked out the log he had originally slept on. By the time the hill had been crested, he could just barely make out the log, a simple line of bleached white bark against the browning earth. From this height as well he could see every chuchu that he had avoided, and despite his battle upwards there wasn’t nearly as many as he had thought there would be. The frozen chuchus glittered in the sun, a stark contrast to the brown earth, and it marked his pathway upwards very clearly. With any luck they would thaw before the humans made it here, and by that time he would already be long gone. Oh it felt so good to be three steps ahead of the humans once again.

            Returning his eyes to the land in front of him, the joyous feeling and relief soured. He had made it over the hill, yes, but now he had the entirety of Eldin to traverse. Below the hill lay the first of many lava pools, with ashes and soot blowing softly in the breeze. This would certainly be unpleasant, both for his appearance and his stamina. At least there were a few clear paths around the lava, though winding they may be. Taking a deep breath, Ghirahim moved and stepped off the top of the hill. The journey downwards was far easier than the journey up was. Arms spread out to his sides to balance him, he slid down the slope on his feet. Reaching the bottom he continued to slide, skidding to a stop all too closely to the nearest pool of lava. Taking a step back, he looked down to the lava, and in turn down towards his feet. It had been no more than a fifteen second slide down and his footwear and the bottom reaches of his legs were already smattered and stained with dirt and ash. A heavy sigh left him and he shook the thoughts away. There would be nothing he could do to care for his appearance at the moment, and any attempt would be wasted effort with how dirty the environment was becoming. He would have to ignore it for now and continue on towards home.

            Stepping carefully around the lava pools, Ghirahim became acutely aware of the heat that now smothered him. It left his skin feeling dry and brittle, at least drier than usual, and already his throat was feeling scratchy. Perhaps he had overestimated his abilities to endure the heat longer than a human. Though they couldn’t possibly feel well after being as close to lava as he was. Being made mostly of metal allowed him certain graces that humans did not have, but metal skin made for quite the oven for the rest of his body. Humans probably didn’t have to deal with their organs literally cooking inside of them, given their squishy and fleshy nature. He can’t let himself think of such things, however. Becoming too caught up in the health of his internal organs would prove nothing but a waste of time. He had lingered in areas far hotter than this for far longer than he was about to. Surely he would be fine.

            Traversing Eldin’s vast landscape posed a new problem to him. The climbing, running, and jumping aspects. Mountainous as it was, Ghirahim didn’t want to waste his magic by using nothing but teleportation and barriers to assist him through this landscape. But there were so many places he needed to run across, places he needed to take a leap of faith, places where he had to climb as there were no other time saving options. Very quickly his hands became dirtied, soiled with dirt and ash, and his thighs were certainly no better. Nearly falling once into a pool of lava below, Ghirahim had mussed up the fronts of his thighs and a small portion of his torso as he latched himself onto the sides of a wall. He was very rapidly becoming sore and exhausted the longer he plowed onwards through the land. It was a physically exhausting world to trudge through, more so than the forest and the fields. Ultimately it may be the hardest part of his journey, scaling the enormous volcano before descending on the other side into a territory that was far less known. Granted he had been there before on several reconnaissance missions for both himself and for his late master, but every time before that he had been leaping through space or riding atop his tribe’s crest. Getting there would be the only problem.

            And speaking of problems he didn’t want to deal with, more monsters had begun to make themselves known. Red chuchus were few and far between at this point in his journey, but other monsters picked up the slack. Pyrups swarmed the banks of lava pools, sunning themselves on the scorched earth and some even taking a quick dive into the pools. At any given point he passed one of these pools, a Pyrup would sound an alarm and fire would quickly douse the area. There was no way to really avoid the pools of lava, not yet at least, and there seemed to be more and more Pyrups the closer he got to the volcano. When he did have a chance to dart into a slightly cooler cavern, he was greeted by several Fire Keese and Lizalfos taking shelter for the day. The keese were simple enough to deal with, as a quick slash from his blade rendered them dead, and the Lizalfos were not difficult to deal with either. It was frustrating and annoying to greet every Lizalfos he met, and more so when they seemed inclined to gather proof it truly was the Demon Lord in their midst. But they were not difficult to deal with by any means.

            By the time Ghirahim had left the crest of the hill he had first crossed far in the distance, the sun had made it two thirds of the way through the sky. His core was overheating, his steps becoming dizzy, and his mind sluggish. He had barely made it a sixth of the way into the landscape and it was already so close to night. Frustration took hold of him tighter than it had ever done during the day, and he delivered a swift and powerful kick to a boulder in his path. The relatively small stone soared through the air before landing with a heavy splash and hiss in a pool of lava. Watching the stone sink, Ghirahim caught sight of something just across the pool. A cave. This one, while appearing like many of the other caves he had encountered, seemed to hold it’s secrets. From this distance in the wavering heat he could glimpse shade, sand, and the rare water fruits. From what he could tell, it would be as good a place as any other to take a quick rest in this god awful place. The only trouble was that it was across the pool of lava he had kicked the boulder into, and it stretched far to either side. Growing increasingly desperate for a place to settle, Ghirahim cast his eyes out along the long lake of lava. Nothing but partially melted stone and a gentle current. It was disappointing, to be so close yet so far from a place he could safely hide and rest in.

            He would be a liar if he said that his heart didn’t immediately light up at the sight of what was across the way from where he was. Partially submerged in the flowing lava was a series of bones. Leviathan bones. They had come from a time before his own, and the few that had still lived while he was an integral part of Demise’s army had passed away in the great war. Seeing the bones of magma leviathan brought him both excitement and respect. Respect for the fallen beast and respect to the one who had struck it down. A shame that this would be its resting place for as long as the volcano was active, but at the very least in its death it could assist him in getting to shelter. He couldn’t help the brisk pace he took towards the skeleton, excitement building up and overwhelming his frustration. For the most part, the left array of its ribs and skull were above the lava’s surface, and the larger part of a hind leg cleared the surface of the lava as well. If he could make the jump onto the hollowed out skull and up onto its ribs, Ghirahim could make quick work of traversing its body over to the nearby cave.

            Reaching the skull, worries boiled up inside him. This suddenly didn’t look as good as it really could have. Being the bones of a leviathan, and trapped in lava no less, the structural integrity of the bones couldn’t have been all that good. A nagging suspicion told him that if he were to carelessly step on a thinner bone he may just break it and plummet to a quick, flesh melting death. The ribs, while still mostly intact, had a few pieces missing, creating even longer gaps that he would have to jump. If he landed wrong on one of those he had no doubt that he would fall as well. Looking back towards the cave, Ghirahim steeled himself. His throat was sore and brittle, and his skin so dry that to exert himself felt like his skin was splitting. He needed the water that lingered in that cave.

            He couldn’t allow himself any more time to think. Any longer and he had no doubts that he would be turning back and looking for another way across the lava. Taking a few steps back, Ghirahim made a running start at the skeleton, pushing off the ground as the edge of the lava came a little too close for comfort. All at once he could feel his heart leap into his throat as he soared through the air towards the skull. The brittle surface of the skull came up hard and fast against his feet, and the sound that rattled from the hollowed out space brought him no comfort. He had been right to believe the structure of the bones was poor after eons of sitting here. At the very least the bones did not give out from underneath him, and for that he was thankful. Having made the first leap into this mess, there would be no point in turning back now.

            Backing up once more, this time with a new caution in his steps, Ghirahim took another running leap at the bones. Once more he soared through the air, though he had over calculated his jump. He missed the first rib and was falling short of the second. Reaching his arms out just in time he caught himself on the edge of a rib. A grinding, snapping sound echoed as his upper body hit the rib, and a shot of ice pulsed through his veins. So much for not landing too heavily. The fall of the rib wouldn’t be immediate, no, but he didn’t have the time to sit and wonder how long exactly he had before he fell. Dragging himself up onto the bone, Ghirahim made a hasty hop over to the next rib. The rib beneath fell away as he pushed down, cutting his momentum in half. Dread built up inside him as he began to fall short of the rib before him once more. Not fear, of course, never fear. The day he would allow himself to feel fear again would be the day after his death. But dread and anticipation? He could allow that.

            Once more he just barely caught the edge of the rib, this time slipping down so only his hands held him on the rib. It was a stroke of luck that the rib he had grasped hadn’t given out with the way he had leapt onto it, but with the smoothness and failing structure in the skeleton, he wasn’t about to hold his breath on his luck continuing. Hauling himself up onto the rib was a struggle, what with heat that was gradually slowing him down, the yanking of the joints in his shoulders, and the curvature of the bone itself. After some time he did manage to drag himself up and onto his feet once more. At this point it felt like this route was more effort expended than the rest he would be getting in the shade and water of the cave. Though bitter and becoming exhausted in the heat, Ghirahim continued to push on. One rib after another he leapt, doing his damnedest to not fall or break another. Parts of himself told him that using his magic would be easier. He could make a jump through space to any location he could see or had been too before. He could have just made a simple pathway over the lava. He could have just made an enhanced leap over the lava to the cave directly. He shook the thoughts off. He had been tired enough as is when he had spotted the cave, and risking using his magic for anything other than attempting to keep his core temperature cool was far riskier than this.

            A final leap onto the leg, and Ghirahim’s ordeal was cleared. It was nothing more than a simple trot over the leg and a simple hop off the breaking ankle onto stable ground once more. He hadn’t enjoyed his endeavour over the lava, but at least it was over now, and he would now be able to rest somewhere where hopefully the heat was slightly less intense. He would be lying if he said walking to the end of the breaking ankle and stepping down onto solid earth didn’t bring him a title wave of relief. Walking back towards the cave only intensified the relief. It wouldn’t be long until he could sit down and rest. He could focus more of his effort into recovering and maintaining a good internal core temperature. The day had been growing increasingly hot, and at this point it would be easier on him to resume his walk in the middle of the night, when the sun had no effect on his heating body.

            Feeling sand underfoot and shade begin to cover his body, Ghirahim all but staggered into the cave. Hiding in one of the father corners of the cave, where the sun’s light did not reach, he sank down to the earth. While still warm, the sands beneath him were instantly cooler than the scorched and blackened stone outside. The ache from heated and overworked joints soon subsided as they were allowed to cool and rest, and with a grand stretch his muscles were already beginning to feel better. Tearing into one of the low hanging water fruits helped to restore his mind and cool his core. He had known the journey would have taken him two months to complete. Perhaps he had been too overzealous about racing over the plains and trying to blow through Eldin. In reality, he should be taking his sweet time with this. Surely it would take the humans longer to find him in the depths of this land.

            Ripping open yet another water fruit, something about the cave jumped out at Ghirahim. He didn’t seem to be the first to take shelter in this little cave. While he was drinking he noticed footprints adjacent to him, places where feet had guided others into the cave and allowed them to rest as well. Though stale and slowly dispersing, he could sense lingering magic residue. Muddled as they were, he could make out the owners of the residues. Sitting directly across from him had been Rotas, the residue of his strange cloak moving left in the divots and patterns dragged through the sands. He had no doubt that the cloak had been shifting in attempts to lazily brush the hot air away from him. A cloak that heavy could only mean the poor bastard was overheating just as Ghirahim had been. To the right of where Rotas had sat he could sense Vor’iin. A large chunk of the sand had been shifted, mostly likely from Vor’iin blowing it away with a small gust. He, just like Ghirahim, wasn’t too big a fan of dirtying his outfits. Closer to where he was currently sitting he could feel Simraw’s magic in the sand. His seating place was far more neutral that the others, and the traces of his magic even fainter. But still he could sense it, and the small husks of old water fruit was littered with his magic.

            For a mere moment a feeling of comfort washes over him. Sitting here in this cave where his tribemates had rested recently, he could almost imagine what had been going on between them. Rotas and Vor’iin, no doubt drawn close to one another, softly poking fun at Simraw who had no doubt been drinking as much water as he possibly could. He could almost hear Simraw’s defensive tone, trying to deflect their teasing with the logic that they may not see water again for some time. Vor’iin’s voice rang in his skull, almost as if he himself had been present as the bickering had started, scolding Simraw for acting so much like Trartom. Then Rotas would have chimed in, saying something about how Hell’s Breach could only extend so far and that they had already crossed a great deal of it. Water would be around the corner for all three of them, and Simraw would have only made his bladder fuller with how much water he had been drinking.

            The comfort he felt here gave way to a homesickness far too quickly for his liking. Though he would never admit it aloud, he missed his tribe dearly. Silently he wondered what exactly they had been doing all this time, and parts of him wondered what Simraw, Rotas, and Vor’iin had been doing out here in Eldin. Part of him knew that they were searching for him, and that only made his homesickness worse. What he wouldn’t give to return to his tribe, to revel in their company and rally them for battle once more. Homesickness then gave way for rage. Not a rage towards his tribe, but a rage towards the goddess. Had it not been for the goddess reincarnate and her meddling little grasshopper, he would not have to be making such a journey. Demise would still be king. The surface could have been their land to rule, their land to do with as they pleased! And with their claws rooted firmly in a place upon the surface, conquering the rest of the known world would have been that much easier! Amidst his rage, he promised himself that if he ever encountered that green little brat and his precious goddess again that he would gut them for destroying the beast the wield his blade.

            His emotions were beginning to move too quickly for his liking. His rage, which he had been so invested in before swiftly turned to hesitance and uncertainty. Demise… As blasphemous a thought as it was, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about what things would have been like had he not taken up Demise’s offer. First of all, he would probably be dead. He wouldn’t put it past the Demon King to destroy him for refusing his offer. He had been an important part to his forger’s army, and eliminating him might have caused the army some form of loss in morale. Or perhaps he might have simply carted him off to be a part of his army anyways. He wouldn’t put it past the demon to not have such a thing in mind, and with as regrettably human as he was, there would be more than enough ways to break him and twist him to have worked for him.

            A snort, abrupt and angry left his throat. He needed to stop thinking of such a thing. He had no longer been important to his forger when he had left with Demise, and no one had felt loss when he had left. Besides, the past is in the past, and there is nothing Ghirahim could do to change it. He had made his choices, and his choices had led him to something he could remotely call a family. What matters most to him now is getting his dues. In reparation of the life of the late Demon King, Ghirahim wanted the heads of the two responsible. He has no time for these worthless thoughts when he had an army to rally and some winged brats to destroy. Perhaps he could take all that they have known and loved and destroy it in front of them, just as they had done to him. It sounded like a fitting punishment for the crimes they had committed against him. After all, there is no sweeter exchange than an eye for an eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeehaw, Ghirahim feeling something other than anger? In MY fic? It's more likely than you think. I'm a god damned dirty Ghirahim apologist and boi I will make him feel regret as much as I want lol. Also I tried so hard to increase the length of Link and Zelda's bit there, but at about 1k words I couldn't find any other way to increase it. At least Ghirahim's bit took up like 5k LOL.  
> Man, I am getting to the point in this fic where I REALLY just wanna write like.... I think it might be chapters 23 and on? Cause I've been thinking about those chapters a lot and I really want to fuck some shit up in that area, but for now y'all gotta deal with Ghirahim, the Heroic Hylian Hypemen, a troupe of demons, and a little corvid fucker, just like I do. There's like four parties all moving in the exact same direction and I am not looking forwards to writing the same pieces of scenery four times over LOL. Continuity is my worst enemy and I am like 65% sure there is a big ol continuity error between chapters 1 and..... uh.... maybe like 11??? I forget exactly, but Vireo wears red, but I originally wrote him as wearing blue I believe. It doesn't matter much now anymore, rest in pieces Vireo and Cassin, but still, continuity.  
> I don't know where I'm going with this, but what I really want to say (again) is thank you for sticking around with me for so long, and all your comments and kudos really do make a difference in my life. Thank you all for reading!


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